Someplace to Call Home
by WithoutHesitation
Summary: Sequel to Worth of a Soul. They’ve been married for a while now, and things should be calming down. Instead, with her family falling apart, and life in Winter River becoming unbearable, how long before she just follows Beej away from all of it… For good?
1. Some Honeymoon, Huh?

If the world was the way I wanted it, not only would the _idea_ for Beetlejuice be mine, but so would Beetlejuice himself. That is, alas, not the case. I don't own any of it, not Lyds, not Beej, not the Neitherworld... Basically not anything in these pages that can otherwise be accredited to Tim Burton, and/or the Geffen Film Company. Now, there is some stuff in here that is mine... But you? You're reading this for _Beetlejuice_... And Lydia. And them together. Am I right?

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The mood in the room was still, silent… _boring_. Laying on his wife's bed for the past two hours, staring up at the new design she'd started scrawling across their shared living space, was starting to grate on his nerves. And he was starting to notice patterns within patterns among the spider webs that stretched across one corner. He was _not_ a patient man, never had been, and marriage wasn't changing that for shit.

Propping himself up, he regarded the girl sitting at her perfect wooden desk, the only thing in the whole damn room she went to any lengths to keep looking nice, and frowned. "You're serious, Lyds?" He demanded, further annoyed when the girl didn't so much as lift her head to acknowledge him, pretending for the moment at least, that she had better things to do. "I mean, are you fucking with me? _Homework_? When we could be doing anything we goddamn want?"

"We've been doing 'anything we goddamn want.'" Lydia pointed out, still not so much as raising her head from the paper she was working on. "This _would_ have been done days ago… I'm not the one who wanted to head out to Mardi Gras, and spend three days dragging his new wife through all the weirdest New Orleans has to offer. But since _I_ couldn't get back on my own, and you're a stubborn asshole, _you're_ going to have to deal with me catching up on my work _now_."

Beetlejuice frowned, draping one arm across his knee, and weighing whether or not the girl was still actually pissed at him. It wasn't like the chick hadn't had _fun_… He knew damn well she'd loved every minute of- Well, most of it, anyway. He grinned, latching on an idea, and pulled a long string of bright purple beads out of his pocket, noting with a leer, "Hell babes, it's not like we came back empty handed!"

His wife turned to him, to see what he was talking about, and her face sort of twisted up… He chose to believe she was trying not to laugh, personally. "_Those_." She agreed, with just a touch of dry humor. "Again, Beej, I'm as open-minded as the next… Well, whatever I am now… But my husband turning into a college girl, and flashing a guy on a float to get some beads, is something I could have gone the rest of my afterlife without seeing."

The poltergeist chuckled to himself, balling them up in his fist, and throwing them to her. "Well hell, babes… I wasn't going to let him get a look at _your_ goods!"

"Because that was even an option." But she was smiling now, as she caught the shiny things, and twisted them between her fingers… Homework, for the moment, ignored. "And all things considered, that's probably the least of the sights I wish I could wipe from my memory about that whole thing… You are a perverted, immoral sociopath at times, Beej… And I swear, you were still the most normal one there."

He cackled, dropping back against her pillows- well, their pillows- and lidded his eyes, reflecting that maybe Lyds was getting too used to him, if she figured him for somehow being more normal than…

Well hell, it had gotten pretty crazy at that one party, hadn't it?

"You're just jealous," He noted, a little smugly, as he traced the lines of black once again with his eyes, "Cause that one chick with the gi-_nor-_mous melons kept trying to put her hands all over me. Hell, _I'd_ be fucking jealous. She had this rack like-!" And he was busy gesturing with his hands, about a foot away from his chest, when he realized that he had, in fact, caught the girl's attention. "What?"

"Her gi-_nor_-mous melons." She repeated, a little flatly, as he now indeed had her undivided attention. "As opposed to what? My itty-bitty melons?" Beetlejuice's blank look was priceless… The guy never thought about shit before he opened his mouth, and current situation notwithstanding, it was one of the things she loved about him… Watching him try to carefully extract his foot from his mouth, while pretending it was never there in the first place, was one of her favorite pastimes.

This time though, he didn't even bother trying to backpedal. "Well shit, babes… I'll just stand here and keep digging, you let me know when I'm done." He muttered, clearly knocked off his game.

Lydia however, was not. "I'm not jealous, Beej." She assured him, finally rising from her desk, and stretching, well aware as he grinned, and took in the sight of her hungrily. "I don't have to be jealous." Relaxing again, she gave the poltergeist a careless grin, and noted easily, "I know Latin." Like _that _was the end all and be all of threats…

For about a second, he just stared, then started laughing so hard he almost fell out of the bed. "Babes," He sneered at last, yanking to a sitting position as she sat beside him, if only long enough to pull her down with him, "If knowing Latin is the best you have you offer, you ain't been paying attention to shit!"

Lydia giggled as she fell half over him, and he began applying kisses fiercely, and with single minded determination, to her throat. "I've been paying attention," She denied, half heartedly throwing off his demanding touch, and then just sort of letting him do whatever he wanted when he stubbornly reached for her again, like she didn't have the heart to say 'no' twice, "But I was just thinking about locking you in a closet, not sending you to sandworm land…"

Her protests trailed off as his mouth found hers, and for a few minutes they let thoughts of homework and arguments and sandworms slip away, the girl unable to suppress a shiver when his fingers found a little place near the center of her back where a little tingle of energy went a long way… Flushing across her skin with heat and cold as she giggled against his mouth, cursing him softly under her breath.

"How can you still be so cold?" She demanded a moment later, when he finally let her up for air. She was perched above him now, one arm cradled across his chest, the other supporting her, black silk spilling down both arms, and across his fanned touch where he held her. "I mean, I thought once we were married, you'd be alive, right?" She dropped a little lower to his body, so that she was cradled against him. "But you're _cold_."

Beetlejuice gave her a skeptical look. "You complaining, babes? 'Cause I know damn well that you like it when I-"

"Stay on track." She murmured affectionately, nuzzling his fingertips as he reached to stroke her skin. "You're cold, and yeah, I like it, but why? You're married to a breather now…" He chuckled softly at her calling herself that, and she paused, smiling, before asking quietly, "So you're _alive_, right? I mean…" Her hand crept up, sliding between the worn buttons of his shirt, and touched the spot where she could _feel_ his living heart pulsing away. "You're _alive_."

"Yeah…" He agreed in a drawl, "And if I'd married just any breather, I might be even more alive. But me? Oh no, I gotta go and marry someone more _interesting _than that… I gotta marry a breather who's a frickin' neitherworld citizen, like myself… sorta, anyway. I mean, once we said I do, and all that, you and me were pretty much as dead and alive as each other, right?"

Lydia considered this, and came to one inevitable conclusion. "But I'm _warm_." She noted, not really in protest. "So if I'm as dead as you are, and you're as alive as I am…"

"Hell, babes…" Beetlejuice sighed, amused at her persistence. "I gotta tell you, I don't make the rules. Hell, half the time, I don't even understand why there _are _rules." A small pause, then, "Actually, probably more than half. Probably more like _all the frigging time_…" Another pause, then with a glance at the girl currently curled up on his chest. "Where was I going with this again?"

"You were avoiding a question you don't know how to answer." Lydia smirked, finally drawing away from him again, much to the poltergeist's protest. "Beej, I told you, I have to get this stuff done, or I'm going to lose a bunch of points on my grade!" She squirmed from his grasp, managed to stand, and gave the man an exasperated glance. "Look, I'm probably going to be at this for a couple more hours still. Why don't _you_ go have fun? There's no reason both of us should be locked up, being bored to undeath."

And Beetlejuice of course, all he could do was grin at this… He loved how she called it her 'afterlife' now, and made jokes about being bored to 'undeath,' and called herself a 'breather' from time to time… It meant he was having an influence on her. And hell, he supposed the kid did have to do her schoolwork… Not that he'd ever bothered with that shit, but then he'd had to make it up years later, to stay ahead of the competition… Might as well get it out of the way now.

"Yeah, yeah…" He muttered, shoving himself off the bed, and already turning over in his mind how he could kill a couple hours, without indulging in one of his normal favorite pastimes… Trying to get up in someone's skirt. Lyds was understanding and all, but he was pretty sure she had her limits. "Maybe I'll head off to Vegas, catch that show you're always on about…"

"That's '_Phantom of the Opera_,' She informed him dryly, already flipping through her papers again, to figure out where she'd left off, "And it's on Broadway, not Vegas." A pause, then, "The good one, anyway." She cast a half hearted glance over her shoulder, and added, "Don't suppose you wanna do that sometime…?"

"Pfft!" Beetlejuice dismissed this with a flick of his hand. "The guy was a damn charlatan, babes…!"

"And you're opposed to that, how exactly?" Lydia pointed out, shaking her head, and giving it up as a lost cause… Pointedly not pointing out that _Vincent_ would have taken her if she asked, because she was pretty sure that was a sore point that neither one of them were quite over yet. "You're the biggest conman around, Beej… Look, just go screw with some people's head at a magic show, you know you'll get a kick out of messing up the act."

Beetlejuice considered this with a frown. The girl was right of course, it would be damn fun… But only if she was with him to truly appreciate his genius. "Yeah, well-" He began, only to be cut off by a knock at the door, interrupting them both.

"Lydia?" Barbara's voice, as the ghost woman deliberately didn't open the door first… A lesson she'd never actually had to learn the hard way, fortunately, after the two of them were married. "Mind if I come in?"

The poltergeist grinned, never truly tired of the game of screwing with the in-laws. "Screw off!" He growled, in mock outrage, "We're fucking!"

His wife shot him a strained look, shook her head, and assured Barbara, in a calm voice, "Ignore my wise-ass husband. I'm just doing my homework." And then, in a sort of afterthought, "You can come in, Barb. What's up?"

She swung open the door, and came in a little slowly, casting a withering glance at the half-dead man on the bed. "At least he didn't say it with your voice this time." She noted under her breath, clearly more strained than she was trying to let on, as she turned her attention back to her reason for coming up. "Dinner's ready, Lydia. Why don't you take a break, and come down to get something to eat?"

This caught Beetlejuice's interest. "Grub?" He grunted, looking intrigued. "Well hell, Babs… You don't gotta invite me twice!"

"I don't recall inviting you _once_." Barbara noted, still clearly resigned to her goddaughter's husband joining them for their meal. It had been a tough adjustment for all of them… Well, all of them except Beetlejuice and Lydia themselves, ironically, who seemed to be taking everything in stride… But Barbara was pretty much the only one still trying to pretend that things could ever go back to normal, and her forced optimism was clearly beginning to wear on her. "Anyway, it's just noodles…"

Beetlejuice grunted, clearly not seeing a problem with this, already on his feet, and bodily dragging Lydia away from her desk, despite her protests. "Come on Lyds, yer still alive enough you gotta eat… Hell, I'm alive enough I gotta eat now!" When she tried to pull from his grasp, muttering something about 'one more problem,' he physically lifted her, threw her tiny frame over his shoulder, and turned to face the ghost woman with a grin. "All set, Babs! Lead on!"

Barbara gave him a dirty look, strained with impatience, and turned without another word, leaving the two of them behind. "What's chapping her drawers?" Beetlejuice muttered, shifting Lydia's weight on his shoulder, and patting her ass in satisfaction, once he got her balanced right. "She's the one who fucking invited us to dinner!"

"I let you get away with too much…" Lydia reflected, as he carried her, still grumbling under his breath, directly through the floor, and with his usual sort of fanfare, into the kitchen with the in-laws. "On the other hand, that's assuming I have more power over you than I do…" She broke off, as she realized they were the center of pretty much everyone's attention now, as her family didn't seem to know what to make of this newest development. "Put me down, you idiot."

Chuckling under his breath, Beetlejuice spun her easily on his arm, dropped her roughly the last two inches to her seat, and scooted it in by magic, while he looked for his own chair. The only available one seemed to be across the table… Some breathers really never learned, did they? He lifted a currently occupied chair, spun it away to the far side of the room, and juiced up an empty one, more comfortable than those wooden backed things her family was sitting in anyway.

"All right!" He grinned, paying no notice to the air of hostility that hung in the room, "Let's eat!"

Adam got up, and dragged his seat back over next to his wife's, while Lydia cast a glance around the room, and noted that yet again, there was no sign of her father. She was probably the only one of them though, that didn't blame her husband for this… Edmond had his own reasons to stay away, these days. But she supposed that it was easier just to blame Beetlejuice for everything. She usually did.

A careful application of Barbara's ghostly energy, and five heavily laden plates swooped in to settle in front of them… In this case, noodles, egg noodles specifically, with piles of steamed vegetables on top, smelling of ginger and oranges. Lydia leaned forward, sucking the smell in through her nose greedily… She still couldn't cook as well as Barb, even if most of her efforts were limited to concocting something sweet. Sometime soon, she was going to have to figure out how she-

Any further thought died, as her gaze fell on her husband, currently staring at his plate like it was something that had fallen out of a sandworm's rear end. "You gotta be fucking me." He muttered under his breath, poking at the pile of hot food with one wary finger. "What the hell is this? You breathers actually eat this crap?"

Lydia stomped on the poltergeist's foot under the table, but he didn't even give her the satisfaction of protesting loudly, just sort of twisting his mouth in a smirk, and pretending he hadn't noticed. "I mean, seriously, you trying to kill me here, Babs?"

"You know what?" Barbara decided out of nowhere, reaching out bodily across the table, and snagging his plate, "You don't like it, you don't have to eat it!"

"Hey!" Beetlejuice howled, snatching it back from her fingertips with an offended look. "Relax you uptight little dame!" In a lower tone, adding, "Just needs a few neitherworld goodies to spice it up…" As he proceeded digging in his pockets, and, to her family's consternation, pulling some truly disturbing paraphernalia out of them in the process. A decomposing mouse, a long fat millipede, which promptly went towards her mother, a book singed with ash and rimmed in green mold…

And Lydia just sort of avoided everyone's horrified gaze, until he found what he was looking for, and with a satisfied sound, stuffed everything right back where it had been a moment before… Except the millipede. That he shoved in his mouth, as he twisted the pepper grinder in his hand, and offered it towards Lydia with a little twist of his eyebrows. "Go on, babes… Mire crickets, best kind… All sorts of spicy…"

"Uh huh." Lydia agreed, not reaching out to accept his offering. "And how long have they been in your pocket for, Beej?"

The poltergeist frowned, still chewing, and squinted his eyes at the aged wooden shaker, like it might have an expiration date. "Hell babes, I don't know… Neitherworld food don't go bad anyway! Just gets better with age…" He proceeded to grind some black and red powder all over his meal, complete with the occasional serrated leg, and Lydia grimaced. Not because he was actually going to eat it, as much as the fact that she was pretty sure he was still making up for lost time, as far as goading her family was concerned.

But she wouldn't talk to him about that here, now. She'd wait until they were alone. Again. And it would probably have just as much impact as it had the dozen other times she'd asked him, as pointedly as possible, to stop torturing her parents. The problem was, he _knew_ he could get away with anything… That she wouldn't stay mad at him for more than a couple hours, and he _wasn't _ashamed to take advantage of it.

Half the problem anyway. The other half being he was really making her life harder every time he pulled this crap, not _theirs_. They already hated him. She was the one trying to hold the two halves of her family together… The two halves of which would gladly make her choose one or the other.

The meal after this though, oddly went a little more smoothly, as if even Beetlejuice knew when he was pushing her to her limits, and was willing to back down a little. So for a while, she enjoyed her meal, which was actually delicious, despite the poltergeist's complaints, and it almost seemed like that would be the worst of it…

And then Adam had to start in. "You realize, Beetlejuice," He noted, almost pointedly stressing the name, in an attempt to get to the other ghost, "Part of being married _is_ providing for your wife." The ghost with the most flicked his eyes up, utterly disinterested in anything the Maitland had to offer by way of marital advice. "I suppose what I'm saying is… Since you _are _alive now, when are you going to get a _job_?"

Beetlejuice choked, and for a moment, seemed honestly unable to breathe… Lydia rising from her seat in alarm to try to help him, before she realized that her best friend was actually just laughing so hard that he couldn't swallow. A brief moment of exasperation swelled over her, and she fell back into her seat, figuring silently to herself that she really wouldn't have expected any other reaction from the guy, asked a question like that.

"Good one, chump!" He managed at last, wiping his eyes on the back of his hand, and digging back into his food, still cackling away. "Shit, you actually sounded halfway serious there…"

"I _was_ serious." Adam frowned, clearly trying to remain calm in the face of a man who clearly just did not take him seriously. "Being part of a family means helping provide for it, and…" Beetlejuice of course, was just cackling away again, this time not letting it get in the way of enjoying his meal… Which offered, more or less, just a really unappetizing result, bits of noodles spewing back on his plate every few seconds, only to be scooped up, and eaten again. "You can't expect to simply mooch off your in-laws…"

Finally seeming to run out of laughter as the other man continued his speech, Beetlejuice just sort of chewed, and watched him, gradually going from amused to annoyed. "Don't see you helping out much, Poindexter." He noted in a low growl, as if something in particular the man she said, she couldn't be sure what, had struck a little deeper than expected.

"Well, Barbara and I can't leave the house," Adam pointed out, the two men now utterly ignoring their meals, as they continued their face off. "You wanted to be alive so badly… Well, this is _part_ of being alive. Part of being married! It's not as if you just get what you want, and aren't expected to do anything in return! Especially with Edmond off now, god only knows where, and no telling when he'll-"

It was about at this point that her foster father realized that, in his vehemence, he'd crossed a line, and his mouth jerked closed, his eyes darting to Lydia. Beetlejuice it seemed, wasn't the only one capable of opening mouth and inserting foot. "Lydia," He attempted softly, not even bothering to offer two words to her mother, only her, "I didn't mean that the way it-"

"Here!" Beetlejuice now just looked angry, his eyes flashing as the single word left him in a growl, as to pretty much everyone's surprise, the poltergeist easily pulled a large pile of worse for the wear bills out of his pocket, and dropped them on the table, shoving them in the other man's direction. "I got no problem taking care of my babes, ass-wad. Take it." And he turned back to his meal, clearly with a loss of appetite, muttering about how he had more anyway.

For a moment they all just stared at the wad of cash… Except Lydia of course, who'd already known he'd had it, and that in fact, that wasn't half of what he'd managed to scrounge up over the past few days. For now though, no one touched it. As much as anything, most likely, because it had just come out of the poltergeist's pocket. "Where… Did you get that?" Barbara asked at last, weakly.

Beetlejuice grunted, no longer looking up. "What? You thought I spent three days in the den of sin just to impress the little woman?" He glanced at Lydia across the table, clearly still angry over his implied 'shortcomings,' and only relaxing a little on meeting her patient gaze. "Huh." He turned back to his food, marginally appeased. "No place better to do a little grifting…"

"You _conned_ people out of this money?" Olivia demanded, finally the one to reach out, and pick through the filthy bills. A moment later, she had a total, and turned with it, on her daughter. "Lydia! There's more than two thousand dollars here! Did you _know_ about this?"

A glittering defensiveness fell across the girl's eyes, and she smiled, just a little, bitter look. "Did I _know_?" She echoed, like the question was some kind of insult. "Who do you think egged the guy on? He _loves _showing off! If I hadn't been there to brag to, he probably would have stopped after two hundred bucks!"

"Lydia…" Adam groaned, dropping his head into his hands.

"What?" She was standing now, any remains of an appetite lost, as she glowered venom down at them all. "You think I'm going to feel bad because he fixed a few games of cards, and ripped off people who knew damn well from the start they shouldn't be gambling if they couldn't afford to lose it? You wanted him to take care of me… I don't remember you saying any particular way he had to do it!"

"You can't think this is right, Lydia…" Barbara denied, gesturing helplessly at the wad of cash her mother was counting, again, despite its filthy state. "Taking people's hard earned money like that, like it doesn't mean anything!"

Growling under her breath, Lydia shook her head, and pushed her plate away, a final sign that she just wanted nothing more to do with the meal. "You know what? Stupid people deserve to lose their money." She muttered, shoving her chair to the side as she left them there. "I'm not going to feel bad. I don't see you giving it back to him, or anything…"

Beetlejuice stared at her as she stormed from the kitchen, angry because she was angry, and not sure what to do about it, without pissing her off worse. Finally he just grunted, rising from the table himself, and yelled after her, "Hey, Lyds! Wait up!" As he moved to catch up.

And the three of them sat at the table, silently, staring at the money he'd left behind without a second glance, like it was so much worthless paper. "We could give it back to him." Adam noted at length, clearly wanting nothing to do with Beetlejuice's odd twisting of 'charity.' "We can't let Lydia think we approve of the way he does business…" He paused as the two women didn't immediately speak up to agree with him. Olivia?" He prompted softly. "Barb? You agree with me, don't you?"

Olivia swallowed, with a look on her face that said something bitter was sitting there, just on the back of her tongue. "Edmond might not come back this time." She admitted, softly. "We've always had two working people to support this family… If that's suddenly gone?" She leveled a helpless look at the ghost man. "Two thousand dollars could end up helping us go a long way."

Adam pressed his lips together in distaste. "Olivia…"

The woman didn't give him a chance to finish. "They're thinking of letting me go, down at the Portrait Center." She denied quietly, no longer looking at either of her long time friends. No one answered, not immediately. "It's not a certain thing yet, and we've got some money put away, but…" A small pause, before quietly, "We might need this, Adam. I can't get by on freelance work alone."

For a long moment, he just stared, then closed his eyes, and just sort of hung his head, suddenly feeling helpless and useless, and angrier with himself, than he'd been at either Beetlejuice or Lydia. There was a time when he'd been the provider, able to take care of his wife, able to do good things for her, with enough left over to raise a family… But those days were long gone now. And the last of the money he'd earned in life, had long since been used up. And he was _dead_. And stuck in this _house._

"All right." He agreed quietly, starting to push his own plate away, and then thinking better of it, and putting his fork back to it, determined to finish eating. If things were that bad, they shouldn't be wasting food. Even if being dead, meant he didn't really need it… But he pointedly didn't argue anymore, about taking the poltergeist's money.

Olivia got slowly to her feet, taking the money over to the sink, and counting it again, while she turned the water on hot. She might have to keep it, but she was at least washing it first…

And just like that, it seemed that dinner was over.

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	2. Rough Night

If the world was the way I wanted it, not only would the _idea_ for Beetlejuice be mine, but so would Beetlejuice himself. That is, alas, not the case. I don't own any of it, not Lyds, not Beej, not the Neitherworld... Basically not anything in these pages that can otherwise be accredited to Tim Burton, and/or the Geffen Film Company. Now, there is some stuff in here that is mine... But you? You're reading this for _Beetlejuice_... And Lydia. And them together. Am I right?

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Well, this about drove me crazy... I spent hours waiting for it to accept my upload, figuring something was wrong with the site.. But it wasn't the site. :/ So hello copy and paste, I guess. At least until I figure out what's going on. Hope this doesn't mess anything up...

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Lydia was determined not to get upset over these increasingly common spats between her parents and her husband… Determined not to stay angry for longer than it took to clear her head, and get away from the problem… At least for a while. And so far, her plan had worked.

Denial was _such _a wonderful solution to all life's little problems.

She knew Beetlejuice was following along after her, keeping a 'safe' distance while she fumed through her arguments over why she should just give up on both sides… And once she'd finally run out of reasons to be upset, she turned, planted her hands on her hips, gave him a little sideways smile, and noted absently, "You'd be a shitty stalker, Mr. Beetle-man."

Beetlejuice's face cracked in a slow grin, clearly reading into this that his wife was no longer likely to take his head off with the nearest available projectile. "Babes," He scoffed, more than willing to inject a little levity into the situation, "You know damn well that you're the only one who can see me coming… That don't make me shitty for shit. Just makes you… You know, kinda observant."

Letting him catch up with her, Lydia slung an arm around his middle, and leaned into his side, noting, a little disappointedly, "I still have to go home and finish my homework."

"Nah…" The poltergeist denied, more or less expectedly, cackling under her breath. "Now that you seen the living world version, how 'bout you and me go check out the Mardi Gross for a few days?" Lydia lifted an eyebrow, looking up at him dubiously, if not for the reasons he seemed to think. "What?" He grunted, looking amused. "Some shit that big, and you didn't think they'd have a version for us dead guys too?"

"Actually, that's pretty much the last thing I'm worried about…" She muttered, already imagining the long parade lined up, throwing colored bits of bead out to any-thing willing to bare it all. "There are some sights, Beej… Even I'm not jaded enough to see just yet."

He just sort of snickered, ruffling his widespread fingers through her hair in a way he'd picked up somewhere along the line, probably when she was younger, and didn't seem to realize wasn't quite as appropriate with his wife, as some kid he was hanging around. "Eh, give it time, babes… Takes centuries to get that jaded… Don't wanna rush it all at once…"

Lydia smirked, turning her face into his dirty striped coat, which he no longer seemed to find any reason not to wear, and breathing deeply of a scent that, oddly enough, flushed her with warmth these days. He smelled, a little different. Still a lot of the same smells, but something alive now too, something a little musky, that hadn't been there before. She supposed the dead didn't really need to sweat after all...

"How are you going to make this whole mess up to me, you thick headed spook?" She mumbled, lifting her head just enough to meet his gaze, and let him know that she was both serious, and teasing. "Honestly, you better have something good planned for when I'm done with my homework!"

Beetlejuice returned her smirk, giving the back of her neck a light pinch. "How 'bout sleep, babes? You ain't had any of that for a while…"

"Sleep…" She groaned, just the thought making her feel briefly weak on her feet. It was the last suggestion she'd expected the raunchy poltergeist to actually make… But in its own way, it did prove that the guy actually gave a damn about her. "Oh god, yes, Beej, I will so owe you, if I actually manage to get a full night's sleep…" At this, the poltergeist just chuckled under his breath, his expression making it clear that he was already thinking of ways she could 'repay' him. Lydia of course, reading it easily. "Pervert…"

"Well shit, babes…" His hand had, somehow, found its way to her lovely little ass, which he squeezed briefly to emphasize his words, "I am _not _a fucking _saint_."

"Uh-huh." She gave him a halfhearted push away, surprised when he actually surrendered the distance, just sort of watching her with a sideways little gaze. "What now?" She demanded, resigned to be the straight man for her husband's next little game… Since it was a favor he always seemed willing to repay. "What have you got up your sleeve this time?"

"Nuthin." He denied under his breath, sort of matter-of-factly… Then after a moment more. "Check it out, Lyds. We got company."

Lydia blinked, and paid actual attention to their surroundings for the first time in several minutes, only to fail to see just what, or who her husband was referring to. A frown creased her pale lips, and she cast a questioning gaze at the poltergeist… Only to pause in mute shock at the sight of a familiar face she hadn't seen in weeks… And suddenly wasn't sure she wanted to. Prudence.

After everything that had happened just before Christmas, the three friends had been hit pretty hard, each sort of drifting their own way… The last she heard, Bertha and the red-headed sprite weren't even talking anymore, though oddly enough, it had been almost a month since she'd heard from that particular close friend either. As if, despite their very different reactions on first finding out the truth, neither one could really bring themselves to embrace their newfound knowledge of death enough to even face the newly married girl anymore. Just one more in a list of things she didn't see changing anytime soon.

And Prudence just sort of stood there, all the more out of place because Lydia had heard, through a proud former teacher, that the girl was going off to be a student aide at a prominent Ivy League school, halfway across the country. It was clear that she saw them, and a sort of internal battle waged there, behind her wide glasses, of whether or not to actually cross the street to say hello.

Beetlejuice was oddly silent, hardly ever the kind of guy who didn't have a one-liner to lighten the situation, but even he knew how much the two living girls had once meant to her. His lips set in a grim line, he pointedly looked anywhere but at the girl who, in his opinion, had flat-out betrayed him and his babes to Olivia, and then just sort of walked away, like none of it meant shit. And he'd never gotten back at her for it either… Because he knew his girl still gave a damn. And it ate at him. And he didn't _like _letting things go unsettled.

So he just sort of watched as Lydia managed a small, genuine smile, and lifted her hand to wave at the other girl… Who pointedly adjusted her glasses, pretending not to see, and turned down another street, without so much as a backwards glance. Beetlejuice burned… That, _that_, she was gonna pay for.

"Hell, babes…" He muttered under his breath, wishing he'd just kept his damn mouth shut to begin with, and never let on that the other chick was there. "What does she know, right?"

"Too much, I guess." Lydia answered simply, this time, just utterly unable to summon a trace of anger. "Like Juno said, 'some breathers just can't handle the dead.' Only, you know, most. I mean…" She lifted her head, and gave him a half-hearted little smile. "That's why they can't see them, right?" Beetlejuice just sort of growled under his breath, snaking his arm back around her, and almost defiantly, leading her in the opposite direction to the one the other girl had taken.

After about a minute of the poltergeist muttering in a low voice what he'd like to do to all those '_self-absorbed goddamn breathers, scared of their own goddamn shadows_…' Lydia couldn't help but smile, and feel better, despite herself. Things weren't set in stone yet… People, they could figure out what was important to them, given enough time. She wasn't ready to give up yet. Not on them. Not on her dad.

"Hey, Beej?" She drew him to a stop, making him look momentarily frustrated, at being interrupted in his angry rant, and look at her with a deliberate little scowl. "I've had about all I can deal with for one day. Screw homework." And she stepped up to him, putting her arms all the way around his middle, and slowly, feeling the poltergeist relax under her. "I don't wanna go home, either." She went on, after a moment's thought. "Can we crash at your place?"

A small pause, as Beetlejuice looked down at her, her black tousled mop coming about halfway up his chest, and falling just below his collarbone. Just warm and limp against him, like a pale little rag doll, her dark eyes tired and hopeful. It shook him a little, made him feel kind of raw, in a way he was still getting used to. The girl needed him… Shit, when had anyone ever needed him? He was still getting used to having someone actually give a damn… And he was damn sure that love wasn't something that guys like him usually lucked into.

Lyds… She was something else. And every now and then, he kinda had to pinch himself, to make sure he wasn't just having the best damn dream of his afterlife.

"Beej!" She pounded her fist lightly against him, trying to draw his attention back to her. Not that it had ever really been anyplace else.

_What_? Oh yeah, the kid was waiting for an answer… He gave her a toothy look, noting, matter-of-factly, "Our place, babes… Don't tell me you ain't figured that out yet." Then, in a sort of muttering aloud, "'Spose I could get the weevils outta bed for you… You know, just this once. Kinda gotta keep them somewhere, but just for the night, maybe..."

She gave him another light smack against his chest, well aware she'd have to do a lot more than that to hurt him, she'd seen him get his arm taken off with an ax once for god's sake, and tucked herself into his arms silently, not offering another word. It surprised him a little, since the kid always had something to say to his wise-ass comments, and for the first time, he wondered if maybe she wasn't taking this whole upheaval as well as she put on.

"Hey, Lyds…" He muttered under his breath, trying to think of the right sort of thing a guy was supposed to say to his wife at a time like this, and pretty much coming up empty. Instead, his arms just sort of firmed around her, and without offering a more discreet exit to the more easily spooked living sorts around them, pulled her straight between worlds, deliberately lingering longer than it took in that place made up of his juice, and not much else… Sparked now, with subtle tastes of her living energy, mingled with his.

"Hold on…" He murmured belatedly into her hair, twisting his fingers through the fabric of her shirt, like he was the one just not fucking letting go… "Long way down, kiddo."

A soft sound fell against him, through thick jacket and worn shirt beneath, as easily as if it were straight against his skin. Warm breath raising goosebumps on half dead flesh. "Falling is the last thing that scares me anymore." She noted dryly, returning his firm grip just the same, but turning her gaze unafraidly out to take in the sight of the near nothingness that surrounded them. "Kinda feels like flying, if you didn't know you weren't."

And on that odd note, they were there.

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Something, she didn't know what, tickled the sensitive skin just behind her ear, teasing her from what had been quite possibly the most delicious sleep she'd had in weeks… Only for her unconscious mind to briefly turn over what it might be, decide it wasn't worth waking up for, and start drifting right back to where she'd been only breaths before…

A light touch a brief moment later though, brought her right back to the edge of waking, as cool fingers plucked among her black strands for the offending culprit that had woken her prior, followed by a gentle press of lips against her forehead, raising goose pimples all up and down her arms.

Groaning, Lydia opened one eye, and gave the poltergeist, who seemed surprised to see her awake, a little half smile. "Picking bugs off me while I sleep?" She teased him, reaching up, and running her fingers lazily through his wild blond hair. "You are a gentleman."

He chuckled softly, flicking whatever was between his fingers away, and tucking his arm gently around her back, until he was cradling her small frame against him. "Babes, you're the only one that could end up in a run-down place like this, worried about bugs crawling on you from shit knows where, and find a reason to say something nice about a guy for it." He too looked tired, like he hadn't been sleeping much, and dropped his head to the pillow with a grunt, closing his eyes again. "I swear Lyds, I'll fumigate the fucking place if you want…"

"And that would do what exactly, against neitherworld bugs?" She teased, lifting herself enough to rest her head on his chest as he turned, never quite releasing her. Beetlejuice just sort of smirked in reply. "Believe it or not, I am not freaked out by them, never have been." A pause, then pointedly, "But they can stay the hell out of the bed."

A quick squeeze, as he made a small sound of agreement, before he sat up suddenly, making her blink in surprise, as despite his apparent exhaustion, he seemed to have something on his mind. "Kiddo, you been sleeping for hours… Let's get the hell out of here, and rustle up some decent grub… Not like that crap the Maitland broad cooked up, I'm talking meat, potatoes, a wide variety of larvae…"

I am hungry." She agreed, a little surprised to find this was true. And she must have been sleeping for hours, because now that she was awake, she really wasn't tired anymore. Sitting up with a little help from her ghostly groom, she stretched lazily, and cast a slow glance around the menacing shadows that hung the room, before smiling, noting, almost more to herself, "You know, there's a lot we could do with a place like this…"

Beetlejuice groaned, rolling his eyes, and shoved himself out of bed fast enough for her to lurch on the springy old pad, grabbing the blanket to keep from falling backwards, and shooting her husband a dirty look… Which he just greeted with a grin, ran his hand across his pale and green chin, and offered the other to her. "Gotta tell you… That whole bed-head look is hot, toots. Makes me wanna just toss you back in those sheets, and rumple you up real good!"

"What doesn't?" She giggled, dropping a light kiss on the corner of his chin, only to be met with a growl, and a quick grab, in an attempt to make it more than just a 'quick kiss.' Dodging him easily, she gave him her coyest look, lips turned just a little in a come-hither tease, and noted matter-of-factly, "Nuh-uh, Beej… Food first."

"Huh…" He considered her a moment longer, mouth sort of twisted up, and finally shook his head, turning his back on her to find his jacket. "Seriously got your priorities fucked up, babes…"

"Yeah well, no one's got your priorities, Beej." She noted absently, not having to search for her clothes for once, since she'd fallen asleep with them on. "But about what I said, you know?" He cast a glance at her, with a low, questioning grunt, and she smiled. "I am so serious… We could do something truly freaky with this place."

For a minute he just stared, then started guffawing like this was the funniest thing he'd heard in years, and abandoned his search, snapping his fingers, and dressing himself in an instant. "Only you, babes…" He leered at last, between cackles, "Only you could take something truly run-down and dismal, in the goddamn neitherworld, no less, and say… _'Hey! I know! Let's make it even creepier_!'"

"Well hell, Lyds!" He made a broad, sweeping gesture with his arm, before she could protest. "Mi casa e sui casa, eh babes? Let's take this rotted old bachelor pad, and turn it into something the in-laws would be proud to visit!" A pause, then pointedly, in a low grumble, "Not that we're ever fucking inviting them over, babes… 'Cause I gotta tell you right now, no way in hell."

"Because I'm sure they're so dying to visit." She agreed dryly, glancing around to find his mirror, which had moved again, and checking her reflection in it briefly… Despite the fact that she was pretty much, at her worst, still one of the best looking things in the whole land of the dead. "Hmm, wonder how many more creepy crawlies are nesting in my hair now… Urg." She spun on him with a little frown. "I know you have a shower, right?"

The poltergeist snorted, tucked his arm around her back, and steered her neatly towards the door, mocking, in her own soft voice, "Nuh-uh, Beej… Food first!" And then, when she might have argued it, "Believe it or not, I am not freaked out by them…"

Aiming a careless kick at his shins, which he easily dodged, chuckling, she noted in a grumble, "Wise-asses who use their wives' own words against them, have a surprisingly difficult time getting laid, you know, Beetlejuice…"

"Never had that problem, myself." He assured her, pulling her into a brief distortion of his usual vortex, not going between worlds this time, but apparently, as she quickly saw, just places in the same world. "Gotta feel sorry for a guy who ain't married to an understanding girl like you, Lyds…" He went on, just as if what should have been a severe impossibility for anyone else, hadn't just interrupted what he was saying. "Now, I know how you broads are with your late night cravings, so…" He made a proud gesture around them, as if displaying something he'd prepared for her himself. "Go nuts, babes!"

She looked… And paused, surprised. It was a candy store. A neitherworld candy store. With wide eyes she took in the sight of barrel after barrel of sweets stretching out into the distance on either side, while shelves towering over thirty feet tall hung at precarious angles from the walls, so heavily laden with sugary treats that they groaned under their own weight. Swaying methodically back and forth as small creatures, no bigger than her forearm, scampered up and down long, slender ladders, carrying armfuls of distorted delicacies.

The smell in the air was overwhelmingly one of sugar. Stale sugar, burnt sugar, melting sugar… Vanilla, butterscotch, licorice, and cream, an overpowering, almost tangible weight in the air, beckoning her every which way at once, as she stood there, for the moment completely overwhelmed by what looked like a humongous shopping mall sized candy shop, filled with as yet untried neitherworld goodies.

Lydia grinned, flicking her tongue across her top lip, and found herself looking back at Beetlejuice, as if to ask if this was some kind of trick… He just gave a dismissive wave with his hand, snagging a brown paper bag from a nearby shelf, roughly the size of her torso, and pushing it at her, muttering with a smug little grin, "Go on, babes. Fill 'er up!"

There was no need for more invitation than this. Squealing a little, like a five year plopped down among a similar pile of sweets, she raced to the first barrel, and peered in greedily… Thick, individual unassuming brown globs sat there, filling the barrel almost to her chest, with a sweet, almost fermented scent. Grabbing one, as everyone else around her seemed to be doing, she felt the sticky, yielding stuff under her fingers, and cast a glance at the name on the side of the bin… Clotted caramels.

Popping it into her mouth when no one was looking, she rolled the creamy, lumpy concoction around on her tongue, until the gritty sugars melted, and flooded her mouth with the taste of something like a super sweet yogurt. It stuck to her teeth pretty good… But it was delicious.

The next barrel held the fairly descriptive description of 'squirmy worms,' which seemed more or less like the typical gummy worms of the living world… Only these were moving, and layered in various coats of ooze, every color of the rainbow, and a few that never would have made it on the list, like black-eyed purple, or infected green, or a red that seemed like it came straight from a freshly oozing wound…

Leaving these for a night she was feeling a little braver, she passed the next several barrels by without more than a glance at their contents, eager to see everything. It wasn't until she reached a barrel of unimpressive red ropes, looking a bit like licorice, that she stopped again, and in a moment of boldness, grabbed a handful, and shoved them in her bag, fairly certain she'd come to regret it later. Knowing the neitherworld, it was actually the tame looking stuff she should be looking out for…

Beetlejuice strolled along behind, taking his time to snatch this or that out of the piles of candy Lydia left behind, and every so often, adding a heaving handful of something to her bag, when she wasn't looking. The girl wasn't going to have any fun, picking and choosing like this… But he'd make sure she didn't miss anything really good.

She came to a stop, suddenly distracted by the sight of one of the small wingless imps, currently perched on the edge of the bin of candy she wanted to try, grabbing up messy clawful's of the tiny glazed things inside, and utterly ignoring the goth girl, as it shoved them into a bag of its own. This made Lydia finally take a step back, and notice just how many of the little creatures there were, scurrying over every available surface, dipping their twisted hands eagerly into every available pile of sweets, casting quick, furtive glances around, like someone might try to stop them at any moment.

One, seeing Lydia watching it, bared its teeth, far too long and needlelike to rationally fit into such a tiny skull, and flick its pointed tail, darting away with its spoils. None of the others even noticed the exchange, still collecting their odd feasts… Spinning and dodging between otherwise normal neitherworld citizens, who didn't spare the odd things so much as a second glance.

"So… What the heck?" Lydia muttered to herself, actually starting towards a small group of the imps tearing at a bag someone had dropped… Now fair game it seemed. Beej frowned, and just followed, ready to yank her back from sharp teeth and tearing claws at a moment's notice. "Are they dead too?"

"Never alive, babes." He denied under his breath, kicking at one when it paused to give the girl a dirty look, and sending it end over end across the floor. When Lydia would have protested, he shook his head, took her by the arm, and pulled her away from them.

"All kinds of spillover from some of the hells, place like this." He noted, giving the scattering demons a nasty look, one they seemed more than willing to steer clear from. "Just little fuckers, can't actually do shit… But don't think that means you should go touching them, Lyds."

Lydia stared at him, wide-eyed, not sure if this was one of his more unfunny jokes. "Hell?" She demanded at last, turning her gaze back to the numerous things, covering pretty much every surface, and treated like a common everyday pest by ghosts and such, smacking them away from whatever they wanted to reach for. "What do they want with neitherworld candy?"

"Can't get to the living world stuff." He shrugged, like that answered that. "Shit, you know what you can get with a handful of something nice, in a world where nice stuff don't exist? Some of this stuff's worth its weight in… Well, whatever they use as currency down there." Not that he didn't know, but he sure as heck wasn't going to tell her…

He grabbed a handful of white paper wrapped something-or-others, and threw them at the imps indifferently. "Go back to hell, you little fuckers! Trying to impress my babes, here! Sure ain't gonna do it with your ugly little asses!"

Lydia continued to stare after them, her hunger for new treats suddenly forgotten. "So, parts of the neitherworld are in hell?" She muttered, seriously not liking the idea of this. She didn't mind spending eternity in the neitherworld, if it was just the neitherworld… But this was something else, right? Not that she could do anything about it now…

"Nah…" He looked disgruntled, unwrapping one of the candies he hadn't thrown, and before she could protest, popping it into her mouth to otherwise occupy her, flooding her senses with the taste of honey and peppermint. She frowned, expecting more on the subject, but for a moment, this seemed like all he was going to offer. "Look… It ain't that big a deal, Lyds. Don't worry about it."

Lydia gave him an exasperated glance. "You're supposed to be the one that knows me better than anyone?" She muttered, shoving the, somehow now half full bag, into the poltergeist's arms. "Seriously, how can the idea that we might currently be in hell, not worry me?"

"It's not hell!" He groaned, set back off his game, when he'd actually been trying to score points with the girl. Hadn't figured her for actually worrying about this kind of stuff... Her being Lyds and all… "Look, some places, the different worlds cross over, that's all. Ain't shit but the most nobodies of anywhere gonna get past the stuff they got holding them apart though, so it ain't like you're gonna run into someone that can actually do anything to you, and it sure as shit ain't like you're gonna accidentally fall through…"

Having finished his explanation, or attempt at one, of why he hadn't messed up at all, he muttered, with a little scowl, more at the demons than either himself or her, "So like I said, it ain't a big deal."

"Hmm." Lydia looked like she was trying to turn this over, and looked again at the nasty beasts scavenging for candy, a little calmer now… Or at least, less inclined to panic. "So… Like, I dunno, rats, or something. Up out of the sewers." She bit her thumb, weighing just how okay she was willing to be with this. "Um, and those flying things that are out at night sometimes? They look kind of like these ones, but with wings?"

"Same kinda deal." He agreed, turning back to the rows of candy in frustration, and more or less randomly scooping them into her bag now. "So I guess you breathers take that kinda thing seriously, huh? Not like I know why… I've seen scarier things in my sock drawer, for shit's sake…"

A little, suppressed laugh, made him turn, in surprise, to see his babes trying to smile, even as she was clearly anything but actually okay with this. "Well, your sock drawer…" She pointed out, like that made all the difference. Just the same, she didn't seem to be having the fun she had before. "Um, maybe we can go though, and you actually won't tease my ass off about this later? Okay?"

Beetlejuice gave her his best harmless grin, and Lydia groaned, snagging him by the hand as he moved to her side again. Clearly eager to keep him close, regardless of how much he might in fact bring this back to haunt her later. Not that he would though, if not for the reasons she might think. In his mind, this was his screw-up at an attempt to impress her… And well, he didn't like admitting those existed.

So he settled for, in a sort of unimpressed voice, "Guess the neitherworld ain't as tame as you had it figured, kiddo… Still think we need to redecorate?"

This was, as he'd hoped, exactly the goading she needed from him to feel a little more back to herself. "Oh no… You're not getting out of it that easily…" Her eyes were already glinting with life again, as she looked up at him with a challenging grin, proving that nothing was able to shake his girl for long. "I am going to turn that place upside-down, Beej… Meaning anything you don't want scooped up, better be nailed down!"

"Ah, shit." He muttered, mostly because he figured he was supposed to. It wasn't like he cared two ways about that dump anyway… Lyds could pretty much do whatever the hell she wanted with it, as far as he was concerned. "So, uh, not to get off track, but now that you got your priorities in order, babes…"

Lydia just laughed.

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	3. Dodging the Issue

If the world was the way I wanted it, not only would the _idea_ for Beetlejuice be mine, but so would Beetlejuice himself. That is, alas, not the case. I don't own any of it, not Lyds, not Beej, not the Neitherworld... Basically not anything in these pages that can otherwise be accredited to Tim Burton, and/or the Geffen Film Company. Now, there is some stuff in here that is mine... But you? You're reading this for _Beetlejuice_... And Lydia. And them together. Am I right?

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I think that's the longest I've ever gone between two chapters... I apologize. I of course have excuses, but since none of them amount to crap, I'll just let you read. Hope you enjoy.

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Beetlejuice had gotten next to no sleep the night before… As much as anything, because he just wasn't used to the flow of neitherworld energy anymore, and every time he started to fall out, it'd prickle the hairs on the back of his neck, and just as if his body were warning him he was about to fall, he'd jerk back awake, wonder for a minute what the hell had spooked him, then try again, uselessly, to fall back to sleep.

Watching Lydia had been his best method of passing the time, once he gave up on that… She was like some kind of scary pixie when she was sleeping, dark hair draped all around her small, delicate features, eyes fluttering with dreams, a tiny smile curling her soft mouth. He absolutely loved it when she murmured his name from time to time in her sleep… Usually with an instinctive reach of her gentle hands, trying to find him from behind whatever darkness held her.

And then she'd just fall still, content, her hand over his chest, or across his arm, and look more or less like she was having the best goddamn dream of her life.

He honestly hadn't meant to wake the girl, but he had to admit, killing time with Lyds when she was awake was a hell of a lot better than just waiting for the sun to rise, so they could go do something. And then, once she'd had her _priorities_ straight… A pleased little grin cracked his face, and he cast an absent glance at the kid, his _wife_, yammering on about something. What the hell? How long had she been talking for? Goddamnit, he must be tired, zoning out like that on the girl…

Of course, not paying attention to _her_, was always bound to have consequences, and he knew it before she ever paused, narrowed her eyes at him, and demanded, in a faux innocent voice. "So what do _you _think, Beej?"

His mind quickly turned over his available options… Was this a yes or no question? Could he bullshit his way out of it? What would be the consequences if he fucked up, and said the wrong thing? What if-? But wait a fucking minute, this was _Lyds _he was talking about.

_Honesty_. Who knew that could ever be the best policy? "Wasn't listening to a damn thing you said, babes." He admitted, unapologetically. "Throw that by me again?"

"Hm." She seemed to be trying to find a flaw with his answer, but after a moment of scrutiny, just chuckled. "You _are_ out of it today." She decided at that, wrapping his hand around his, and saying no more about it. "I was _saying_… There were these awesome pair of spider earrings I was looking at the other day, you know, that one place downtown that does the piercing."

"Uh-huh." Earrings? She was talking to him about _earrings_? "Just outta curiosity, which downtown we talking about, babes?"

Lydia didn't answer right away, which was really an answer in and of itself. She just sort of looked off into space, frowning. "Not sure." She admitted at last, pulling on her lip with her free hand. "I mean, it's in the Neitherworld, just not sure…"

"Big place, babes." He agreed, matter-of-factly. When she didn't seem inclined to offer any more after this, he reached out, snagging away a strand of hair between thumb and forefinger, and checked quickly to make sure his mind wasn't playing tricks on him. "Didn't think so." He muttered, satisfied that he'd been paying attention. "You ain't even got your ears pierced, Lyds. Why the hell would you want to?"

"I dunno. It'd look nice?" She glanced at him sideways, clearly weighing his reaction. "I mean, what do you think? Do _you_ think I'd look good in earrings?"

"Hell, Lyds…" He groaned, reflecting briefly that there actually was some of this marriage shit that didn't make sense to him… Like whether or not he gave a fuck about her goddamn _ears_, when she had an ass he could bounce a quarter off of. "Shit, you got cute ears. Why would you wanna go poking a hole in them?" And then, with a little exasperation, "Can we talk about something else?"

Lydia considered him a minute… Then slowly grinned, getting that look to her face which, if he'd noticed, he would have recognized as her suddenly feeling up for a little 'game.' Namely, how far could she push one of the most powerful ghosts in the neitherworld, before he snapped?

"Maybe I'll get my nose pierced, instead." She mused lightly, not quite looking at him anymore, but very aware of his little scowl, as she chatted on about scarring herself up, like he wouldn't give a shit. "Or a lip ring… They've got these little ones, like tiny ball bearings. Silver, you think?"

By this point of course, he knew damn well what was going on, and as he watched her chatter away, he was clearly weighing whether or not to rise to her bait. "Well, just don't fucking do it in the neitherworld, kiddo." He smirked at last, satisfied with his answer. "They don't gotta worry about infections there, so you'd be getting stuck with the same needle some moron already used on probably about a thousand dead guys before you, since the last time he bothered washing it."

For a brief moment, Lydia looked appropriately unsettled by this… But was rarely set off her game for long. They walked along, drawing the usual glances and uncertain frowns, that by now, he didn't even pay attention to, and the girl was silent. He knew it was only a matter of time though. He _knew. _So he was almost ready, when out of the blue, she mused aloud, "Did you know that you can actually get your nipples pierced too?"

"Oh, hell no!" He finally growled, wrenching her to a stop by the arm he currently had a hold of. "I swear to god, Lyds… You get anywhere near those perky little tits of yours with a needle, I'll juice your goddamn head halfway to Sandworm Land, you fucking hear me?"

The goth girl grinned in triumph, in her own mind, clearly declaring a victory. But she was feeling unusually playful today… Probably all that Neitherworld candy. "I don't think you could if you wanted to!" She murmured, pulling her arm free, and taking a challenging step back, eyes glinting with mischief. "Look at you! You think you're so goddamn scary…"

"I _am_ scary, kiddo…" He growled, unable to resist a smirk of his own, as he quickly saw that this was going to be a battle of seeing how far they could push each other. Seemed like a dumb thing to do in his opinion, but he was always up for something Lyds was pulling… All he wanted to know was what he got if he won. "I'm goddamn fucking _terrifying_, and your sweet ass better not forget it!"

Lydia just laughed, that fluid, silvery sound of hers, and took another step back, daring him to give chase. A little smirk snaked across his lips as he took a deliberate step forward, not noticing, in the fun of the moment, that even more people were watching now.

"Careful, kiddo…" He warned her softly, as she continued to slink backwards, hands held deliberately behind her back, waiting for him to advance before retreating again. His interest was piqued, that was for sure… Lyds acting like some sexy little tease, just daring him to make the first move? What the hell had gotten into her?

Finally, she took a step back just a little too slow, and he managed to snag her neatly by the wrist, pulling her back against his thick frame with a growl. Lydia though, just gave him this little look that said he was actually utterly mistaken, and _she_ was the one who'd just come out on top.

"-The hell's going through your head, babes?" He muttered, his arm claiming her waist possessively, as, rather than the reaction she had to be pressing for, he just dropped his lips lightly on her soft, warm crown. "Crazy ass girl…"

"Humph. You know you love it." She mocked him gently, surrendering their little sex play with a sigh, and starting to pull back… Only to find herself quite firmly fastened against him, with the poltergeist clearly offering no intention of letting her go. "Nrg, Beej…" She couldn't quite manage more than a half hearted protest, laughing a little against her will. "Come on, it's seven hours, then I'm all yours…"

"Promise?" He hissed smoothly, cold air whispering from his lips to kiss against her flushed skin. Rather than waiting for an answer though, he just sort of chuckled softly, and let her go, giving her a weighted look that left absolutely no question that he had something in mind already. "I swear Lyds, yer gonna be the second death of me…"

A brief, sudden flare of sound, interrupting, left the two of them surprised, and turning towards it, only to encounter an equally brief flash of blue and red. "Well fuck." Beetlejuice muttered, as the police car door opened, and a lanky, sallow skinned man considered them both with a frown, and a clear air of disapproval. "What the hell's your problem?"

"Aside from your little interest there being obviously underage?" The officer muttered, looking for all the world like he'd just been having an overly shitty day so far, and was hoping to vent a little frustration on the 'problem' he saw unfolding in front of him. "Or the fact that we've never had a problem with soliciting in this town, and I'd like to see it stay that way?"

_Soliciting_? Beetlejuice didn't immediately grasp what the guy was saying, since that wasn't what they called it back where he was from, but Lydia had no problem understanding the implication, and made a sound of strangled outrage, pushing his large frame bodily out of the way, to confront the officer head on. "Did you just call me a _prostitute_?" She demanded, eyes flashing as something in the expression she offered the other man, he personally couldn't have said what, made the officer take a surprised step back.

"I'm just calling it like I see it, kid." The man assured her, suddenly a bit wary, as, finally understanding, something _truly_ venomous brewed up in the poltergeist's gut. His Lyds, a…? Well, not that he'd never… But Lyds? Oh, _hell_ no! "You're not gonna tell me a girl your age is interested in a guy like that for his looks?"

But even as Beetlejuice stepped forward, even as these words passed the other man's lips, and he fully intended to smash the guy against the nearest brick wall a few times, to make the point of just how a person should and shouldn't speak to his fucking _wife_… He was caught by a blast of heat, there really was no other word for it, rolling off the girl, _his_ girl, in waves so tangible he could almost see them.

He stopped stock dead in his tracks, forgetting the bullshit accusation, and just staring at the little goth girl, currently pulsing with enough _juice, _all her own_,_ to lift one of the brick buildings around them, twist it around it, and drop it on the guy she was currently pissed off with.

And hell if he was going anywhere near _that _little bomb waiting to go off.

"Uh, Lyds?" He prompted slowly, suddenly drastically rethinking all the little manipulations he'd made to her energy over the past few months. "You might wanna calm down a bit, kiddo…" At this rate, she was going to take half the town with her went she went critical! How the hell had that kind of power snuck up in her without him noticing?

But then just like that, before he could really start worrying, it swept past him completely, touching not a goddamn thing in its wake, the power just rolling off her in sheets like she had magic to burn… And then was gone. _Her _only reaction was to take a step back, and suddenly to look more tired than angry. Like someone had just sucked up half her day's energy in a matter of seconds, and left her there to stand on a wish and a prayer, and not much else.

"Oh…" Was all she said softly, even as the poltergeist quickly moved up behind her, seeing what was about to come next, brief instants before the dark girl crumpled, and fell back against him. Her eyes rolled up to his, and she looked briefly confused, kinda like she'd just been sucker punched, and noted, sort of absently, "Huh." And no more.

Slowly, her strength came back to her, even if it wasn't what she'd had before, and pretty much no one said anything until she drew away from him, standing under her own power, and shot the officer, who'd remained silent and baffled through all this, a dirty look, clearly not feeling it the way she had before.

"You're a cop," She muttered, like what she was about to say was some sort of given, "You're not supposed to jump to conclusions like that, just 'cause two people are goofing around." A brief pause, then, "And what the heck's wrong with the way he looks, anyway?" But she no longer sounded like an explosion waiting to happen, more like this was just a… vague annoyance, and she couldn't be bothered.

The 'cop' in question looked a bit confused, pretty much like he knew something weird had just happened right under his nose, but he still had no idea what. Never mind that the guy was sweating now, like someone had raised the temperature in the outside air, and he didn't seem to find anything strange about it. "Be that as it may," He muttered finally, sort of under his breath, like he wasn't giving up a chance to see something wrong with the situation yet, "The guy's too old for you, kid. Never mind that…"

"Is he serious?" Lydia asked, turning to Beetlejuice with an uplifted eyebrow, a bit puzzled herself. "Is there anyone in this town that _doesn't_ know the story by now?" Paying absolutely no attention to the guy she'd just interrupted. "I thought we caused at least enough trouble that the _cops_ would know about us."

Beetlejuice snorted, finding himself hard pressed not to laugh, and say something as inappropriate as possible, given the current situation, about how this wasn't really the world they caused the most problems in. It was in the _Neitherworld_, that the little breather already had a track record as long as his arm… "Yeah, somethin' like that, babes…" He agreed under his breath, not sure how to burst her bubble on that little idea.

"Oh, don't get me wrong," The officer interrupted, when it seemed that Lydia was done, _"Him,_ I know." Beetlejuice just sort of blinked, and turned his gaze balefully to the guy, not sure what he was talking about. Sure as hell _he_ didn't recognize the sickly looking breather… "I get complaints about him all the time… Which is _why_ I know that a girl your age shouldn't be hanging around him."

The poltergeist studied the man across from him, trying to figure out if he actually had seen the guy somewhere before… Then snorted, shoved his hands in his pockets, and rocked back on his heels, not overly impressed as he finally placed him. "Big fucking deal, public disturbance, that the best you can do, buddy?" He sneered, ready to dismiss the whole thing right now.

"I was referring to a certain domestic violence report." The other man denied flatly, his voice gaining just an edge of warning.

For a minute the two just stared at him, and finally it was Lydia that demanded, in a low, confused voice, "What the _hell?_" Like it was just the one thing, out of many, many thing she'd buy into him being guilty of, that she just couldn't wrap her mind around. At last she just turned to him, frowning, like he could somehow make sense of it, when she couldn't. "Is this guy losing it?"

It took a minute, but finally Beetlejuice's memory landed on the incident in question, and his eyes glinted in anger, a low growl escaping his throat. "Way to make me sound like the bad guy, buddy." He muttered, clearly angry in a way the poltergeist rarely got, at the attempt to make his babes 'afraid' of him. "She was the one coming at me with a fucking metal baseball bat… I didn't lay a goddamn hand on her!"

The extent of Lydia's reaction was to roll her eyes, and smirk. "You do have a way with the ladies, Beej. Come on, what happened?"

Feeling what was, still, a rare twinge of guilt, not at what he'd done, but at admitting it to his girl, he ran the back of his hand across his lips, frowning, and muttered, "Well hell, first of all, I never told the bitch we were being fucking exclusive… And second of all, I sure as hell never told her I wouldn't jump her hot little friend's ass, given half a chance. So… the broad walks in on us, starts freaking the hell out…"

He cast a glance at Lyds, seeing how she was taking this, only to see her hard pressed not to laugh, encouraging him a little. Enough so that he grinned too, enjoying the story himself now. "The next thing I know, she's swinging this bat around, screaming, starts chasing me down the goddamn street, 'cause… Well, you know I wasn't going to do shit to _her_…" He drew himself up a little, actually managing to look dignified. "Hell, you know me babes!"

"Were you still naked?" Lydia giggled, then waved at him absently before he could answer, pressing the finger of her opposite hand to her lips, eyes lidded mischievously. When he looked at her in puzzlement, she just giggled again. "Shh! I'm trying to picture it!"

To which Beetlejuice just started cackling, throwing an arm around her shoulder, and mussing up her hair good naturedly. God damn, had he hit the fucking jackpot, or what? "See now," He lobbed absently to the officer, who seemed about to object to something, "That's why I married the kid. She's the fucking best!" A pause, then, significantly, "And the best at-"

Lydia's hand found itself securely over the poltergeist's mouth, as the goth girl rolled her eyes, not even annoyed with him for what he'd been about to say, never mind that they were currently the center of attention for about twenty looker-on's who'd gathered around to watch. "Don't push it." She advised him shortly, utterly ruining the effect of any real scolding, due to the fact that she was grinning her own ass off.

Before the startled policeman could think of anything to say to this, she lifted her other hand, and flashed him her ring, noting, in a no nonsense tone, "I think those cop instincts of yours need some working on. Can we go now? I'm going to be late for school."

It was, in its own way, the worst thing she could have ended her words with, and even as the words escaped her mouth, she wished she could take them back. The officer, sure enough, scowled at them, clearly doing his best to look self righteous, and quickly anything but ready to let things go at that. "Rather than go into the number of things wrong with what you just said," The man stated coldly, reaching around for a pad of paper hanging at his belt, "I think you need to both learn something about being respectful to officers of the law."

The goth girl blinked, a flare of anger rising slowly along her spine, along with… something else. Something she was just too tired, after her last outburst, to pinpoint. "Are you kidding me?" She muttered, the fingers of her left hand unconsciously curling into a fist. "You're going to ticket us for disrespecting an officer? What the hell did either of us say that was disrespectful?"

"That, for one." The man muttered, clearly, by this point, just looking to validate his own dislike for the situation. "And maybe while you're down at the station addressing that problem, we can look into seeing if you two really are legally married."

Before Lydia could feel an actual flush of alarm, it hadn't occurred to her yet that they might do that, them being married by neitherworld law and all, Beetlejuice pushed himself to the fore of the conversation, growling in a low tone, "You're going to talk to us about being disrespectful, when you pretty much flat-out called my wife a goddamn _whore_?"

The other man lifted his eyes, cold as stone, and noted flatly. "An honest mistake." What there was no mistaking though, was that his words were more than a subtle effort to get under the poltergeist's skin, and goad him into saying something else he'd regret…

And for one instant, Beetlejuice's eyes glinted in a way she'd only ever seen when he was facing off with his cousin over her, and lips parted slowly in an unsettling grin, showing every jagged tooth, now remarkably like some feral beast's… But the guy didn't say a word. He just regarded the officer facing them like particularly tempting new piece of steak to toy with, if that made any sense. And she wasn't the only one who saw it.

The officer's eyes narrowed, suddenly just a little nervously. "Are you threatening me?" He snapped, regardless of the sheer ridiculousness of the question… Despite the fact that this was clearly what the poltergeist was doing.

"Didn't say a word, buddy." Beetlejuice denied silkily, reaching out of take the torn slip of paper from the man's grasp. "Tell you what, you have a _real _nice day… I gotta get the little woman where she's going, all that. Don't mind, do you?" Lydia couldn't quite suppress the small chill running down her spine… She knew him well enough to know that this was Beetlejuice ready to be at his _worst_, something even she'd never seen before, and suddenly wasn't eager to.

She snagged him by his hand without a word, pulling him past the man that had stopped them, and through the throng of people that had gathered, many clearly disappointed that things had ended on such a simple note. Like they knew anything.

Beetlejuice was silent, already deep in his plotting, and Lydia just didn't want to talk at all, still unsettled by the many, many things that could go wrong from here. Still, as the school came into sight, she reflected briefly that, as the only one anywhere that had any influence on her husband, she should say _something_… Even if she really didn't think it would help.

"You know, most of the cops in this town _aren't_ assholes." She noted, giving his arm a little squeeze, and eliciting a small, noncommittal grunt from him, promising nothing. "I mean it, Beej…"

"Yeah, I know." He admitted grudgingly, eyes still lidded with thought, as he scratched the bridge of his nose in an absent way. Like he still wasn't really paying attention. "Hell of a lot better than the cops back-" Then he paused, scowled, and gave the girl a suspicious look. "Well, how the hell would you know, anyway? What've you been up to?"

Lydia smirked, wrinkling her nose at him. "Idiot. I've lived my whole life in this town… Until you came along, I'd never even been out of it." His eyebrows shot up, a little, in what could only be called surprise. "You think I never met the cops around here? Just, you know…" A small chuckle, "Not on a professional basis, or anything. But yeah. They hang around the school all the time, making sure there's no trouble. Just us poor defenseless girls, you know…"

The poltergeist let out a short, amused bark. "Now how the hell's a guy get a gig like that?" He demanded aloud, before squeezing Lydia to his side, briefly, and dropping a kiss to the top of her head. It was something he did often… Probably because her soft mop of black was always just there, under his face. "Now you go off and learn something, and if anyone messes with you, you got my permission to juice the shit outta them. Fuck Juno."

"Uh-huh." Lazily, Lydia looped an arm around his shoulders, and drew herself up to plant a firm, lingering kiss on the poltergeist's cool lips, looker's-on be damned. "Don't get arrested without me, okay?"

Beetlejuice just snorted, gave her a measured look, a lop-sided grin, and shoved his hands in his pockets, strolling away like the last thing on his mind was going off looking for revenge.

Frowning, Lydia watched him go, certain she should have said something more… But the truth was, she was reluctant to try to 'lay down the law' with her husband… Unwilling to find out whether he'd actually give a damn about what she thought he should and shouldn't do, just because they were married. The thing was, she _knew_ it was going to come up sooner or later, simply because Beetlejuice was Beetlejuice… But it could wait a little longer. Hell, she'd never seen any reason to rein him in before!

As a matter of fact, why did she now? "Everything's all weird." She muttered to herself, shouldering the backpack that Beetlejuice had dropped. Pretty out of character for the guy to have just started carrying it for her like that. Even since they'd been a couple.

It was only then that she noticed how many of the other students were watching her, like she was suddenly just the center of _every-frickin-one's _entertainment. Even the teachers gave her kind of nasty looks… Like she was some town slut, now that everyone knew she had a guy in her bed. Never mind that they were _married_…

_Shit, I can't wait for this day to get over, so I can go hang out somewhere with a few less assholes,_ she thought to herself with a grimace, followed by just a hint of a grin. _Like the neitherworld. God knows it could only be an improvement…_

The bell rang, interrupting her thoughts, and she instinctively cast a glance at the sky, which was uncharacteristically dark for that time of day. She hadn't thought it was time for school yet, but that was what she got for trusting the sun. A storm? The first drop fell even as she was gazing skyward, fat and wet, right between her eyes. Lydia wiped it free with her thumb, and grinned. _Deadly_. Maybe it'd knock the power out, and she could go home early.

Humming to herself, she adjusted the weight on her shoulder again, cast the girls around her positively the nastiest look she could summon, and headed for the doors, her mood for the day already considerably lightened. Flipping off a group of upperclassmen as she passed, without giving them so much as a second glance.

Sometimes she wondered why she still even bothered with this place…

----------------

The house was quiet when Lydia got home… Never mind that Beej hadn't picked her up from school, which admittedly he didn't always do, but now it seemed like no one was waiting for her when she got home either. Which was more or less impossible.

Detouring to the kitchen, she scanned all available surfaces for some sign that Barb had left her an after school snack, but with none in the offing, shrugged, and stuck her head in the fridge, checking to see if they had any apples. She liked them fresh from the fridge, nice and ice cold…

A mingling of red and gold gracing her hand as she stood again, she shut the fridge door with her hip, and took a long, measured glance around. She'd find Adam and Barb in a minute. For now, she was enjoying at least a small break from the drama that had become being part of her family, ever since they'd found out about… well.

She didn't know what the house had looked like when her grandparents had lived there, other than a few fading old Polaroid's that her mother had taken when she was even younger than Lydia was now. For that matter, she didn't really know what it had looked like when the Maitlands had lived there… Key word being _lived_. Certainly there were lingering signs here and there of their distinctive tastes, but gradually, over the years, she was more or less certain that her mother had taken over.

This meant that the wallpaper, surely once as light and cheery as Barb, and taken on a decided 'red velvet' appearance in places, inlaid with ribbons of gold, or swathes of black. The windows above the sink bore small, carefully etched trimmings of slender, creeping vines around the edges of the glass. The light globe above was colored as well, with black and gold inlay. It was all very, _Olivia_.

And yet here and there, evidence of the Maitlands' presence seeped through… Soft white curtains, all in lace, that should have clashed with the bizarre wallpaper, pretty patterned china set perfectly in place along one wall, and themed mugs filling the glass fronted cupboards, with cheery messages, and references to another time. A set of pale fuchsia placemats and potholders, with hand painted roses…

Lydia took a good, solid bite of her apple, closing her eyes briefly to really enjoy that first crunch, then sighed, and reflected that if her surroundings were any indication, then their home was split decidedly down the middle, with two halves of a family whose colors just didn't match. The funny thing was, it had never felt like that… Somehow, this mismatch of hues and styles had always just meant home to her. The stark contrasts were just a part of growing up. And that was fine.

She just, couldn't see her and Beej adding to it, without things falling completely out of balance.

Tossing her apple core when she was done, she decided against seeking out her ghostly friends, and headed for her room instead, figuring that if they wanted to talk to her, that was the first place they'd look. It wasn't like it was her job to tell them when she came home or anything, _they _knew when school let out.

And it wasn't that she was in a bad mood… Just that school hadn't gone well. It hadn't been going well for a long time, but lately, things had gotten, well, _harder_. Not the work, which she didn't mind so much, but the people. She reflected that what she really needed was some time to remember that her life was actually going exactly the way she wanted it… _Without _everybody around her trying to convince her that it wasn't.

Discarding her clothes far more carelessly than she would once have, she stood there in her bra and panties, and started fishing around in her wardrobe for something comfortable. To be perfectly honest, this felt like a gray sweat pants and eye scream kind of day.

A low, musical sound drew her attention, and Lydia grabbed the first shirt in her hand, paying no attention to which one, and drew it on over her head, moving quickly to the rapping at her mirror. A brief grimace graced her features… It was still cracked, but what had she expected? For her parents to replace it? For _Beetlejuice_ to? And she was too busy with school and volunteer work to get a job herself…

"Yeah, I'm here!" She told, _whoever_ was on the other side of the mirror, hurriedly. "The mirror's a little cracked, can you still make it work?" Because, as she'd quickly found, not everyone was as skilled with a broken mirror as a certain husband…

"Lydia Deetz?" The voice from the other side came, a little crackly and fuzzy, like there was some kind of bad connection. "Is this Miss Deetz's residence?"

"That's Lydia Deetz-_Juice_." She corrected automatically, laying her fingers carefully between the cracks, and adjusting her energy to it, the way Beetlejuice had taught her, quickly clearing the 'static' from the glass. A slight, blue-skinned beauty peered at her from the other side, draped in long white hair, with wide, glinting red eyes. "Can I help you?" She was surprised, and a little puzzled… No one but her friends had ever used her mirror before. Who was this woman?

"I'm Miss Fae… Of the Under-grime Fae's?" She seemed to expect that this would mean something to her, but Lydia just met her gaze blankly. "No?" Just a trace of distaste crossed the ghoul's face, before she forced a small, utterly unconvincing smile. "This is in regards to Prince Vince…"

"Oh." Lydia was, again, surprised, as much as anything because, after the way Beetlejuice had told her things had been left, she honestly hadn't expected to hear from the brooding prince ever again… But also simply because he wasn't just there in her mirror himself. "Um, okay. What does he want?"

The woman blinked her large, ruby eyes, clearly measuring the girl across the mirror from her before answering. Her message was almost audible… _What did Prince Vince ever see in that girl_? "You recall the horse the prince purchased for you some time since?" The woman asked at last, looking almost disappointed when Lydia didn't rise to her silent baiting. "One, Steel-Ripper?"

Lydia frowned. She'd long since renamed the animal Phandysmal, in a moment of combined creativity and bad mood, but like Vincent, he wasn't someone she'd ever expected to see again. "What about him? Is he all right?"

A small, equally unconvincing smile. "Of course… and still in your name, I might add." A brief moment to let this process, before she added, pointedly, "And his lowness is tired of making room for him in his stables."

For an instant, Lydia bristled, certain that those weren't her friend's words at all… Before the true meaning of what she was saying came through the other woman's coldness. "Wait… He's giving him to me?" She blurted, baffled as to why he'd do something that nice, with the way she'd left things… The last time she'd seen him after all, was when she'd left him standing in the royal gardens, right after his proposal, with not a word between them since.

"I was under the impression that he _gave_ the beast to you some time since." Miss Fae pointed out, no longer trying in the slightest to be pleasant, her expression patently bored. "And as your relationship with the prince has been terminated, he is no longer obligated to house and tend the animal for you, therefore…" The woman carefully, with some wariness, reached a packet of paper through the part of the mirror in the corner, that didn't have cracks, saying bluntly, "He would like you to sign this release, saying the creature will be cared for at your new residence, under your own effort."

Lydia stared blankly, not understanding. Bring the horse _here_? Well, not that many people would be able to see it, but… "My new residence?" She echoed, baffled. "You mean, here?"

"Of course not!" The woman snapped, clearly pressed past any measure of patience she might have had for dealing with the prince's former 'breather.' "It _refers_ to your residence through marriage, with that miserable creature you seemed to think was a better choice than-!"

Here she broke off, quite abruptly seeming to realize that nothing more should be said. In fact, oddly, she was a little paler than before.

And when she spoke again, it was with the _utmost_ deference and respect… Suggesting that she was no longer alone in the room. "If you would, please, sign this document, stating you are aware of the transfer." She offered slowly, and _very_ carefully. "The horse will be delivered to your residence, and any unpleasantness can be avoided." Lydia noticed however, that she didn't mention exactly, unpleasantness for just who.

For an instant, she almost called out to him, certain that none other than Vincent himself was the reason for the change in her mood… But the name died on her lips. Anything that was to be said between them had already been said, hadn't it? She'd once hoped they could be friends… Nothing less than stubborn blind refusal to see the truth, she knew now. They would _never_ be friends… Not because she didn't want them to be, but because she didn't deserve to be.

Adding to that now, would only bring up more pain.

Without a word, Lydia took the packet of paper from the woman, flipped through it with the intention of reading it, and found her eyes strangely unable to focus. It wasn't that she was crying, her eyes were just, a little blurry, from… She wiped them off on the back of her hand, focused on the paper again, long enough to make out where to sign her name, and jotted it down without a second thought, shoving the papers back through the mirror, with less regard for the cracks. A flare of pain slid along her thumb, a blossom of red rose against it, and she placed the injured digit between her lips without a second thought.

"Anything else?" She murmured, the words only slightly distorted by her wounded thumb.

"No." The woman assured her bluntly, managing one of those polite, utterly unfeeling smiles again. "It was a pleasure, Miss Deetz." Which of course, it was obviously anything but… And with the next instant, she was gone.

A long moment of silence passed, where, belatedly, Lydia wondered exactly what she'd signed, before turning that thought over to how to tell Beetlejuice that her ex's present was coming to live with them, before wondering briefly where the hell they were going to put a horse.

So it was only gradually that she became aware of the poltergeist's presence, standing not ten feet to the side, watching her from under lifted brows, as he chewed on a long red piece of candy. She stared at him for a moment, wondering how long he'd been there… Before he noted, as calmly as was only possible when he knew something was up… "So, babes. You got something you wanna tell me?"

"We… have a horse." Lydia offered matter-of-factly, before pausing, and taking in her husband's appearance. He was wearing a garish red tux he usually reserved for Halloween, not that he'd be doing parties at the high school anymore, from what the teachers said about him these days, and was coated with various layers of what could only be called a viscous fluid, sticky looking and clotted in places, and an overly unpleasant shade of green. "Um… Anything you wanna tell me?"

A grin crossed his face, notably one of the nastier ones she'd seen yet, if inordinately self-satisfied. "Yeah. Some places in the Neitherworld babes, I ain't never taking you to." Absolutely matter of fact, before he pushed off the wall, leaving an off-color stain where he'd been leaning, and flicked his fingers dismissively, in the same instant returning to his trademark black and white suit, banishing most of the yuck. "So, a horse huh? Can it run?"

"We're not racing it." Lydia denied flatly, already back on her feet after the unexpected encounter, a small smile playing across her lips. "Now why don't you tell me what you've been up to, and whether or not we're going to get arrested over it?"

"Not you, babes." He assured her with a lazy drawl, slicking his hair back with one hand, and flashing her his 'sexiest' smile. "Me though… I've been doing a little, ah, paperwork, just in case, you know, something does come up to bite me in the ass." Lifting his hand, he started flicking off the list on his fingers. "You know, birth certificate, social security…" A pointed pause, "Marriage license. That sort of shit. So whenever they do decide to haul my ass off…"

"We're married?" Lydia repeated in surprise, like they in fact, hadn't been for several months now… Which was exactly what Beetlejuice was thinking, from the look he shot her.

"Yeah." He grunted, looking vaguely annoyed, before clearing his throat, and noting, "Then after the business part of it was done, I went and had a little talk with that 'Deputy Ballsy' back there, and well…" He gestured at the spot on the wall behind him, proving he hadn't missed it at all, and grinned. "One thing kinda led to another, know what I mean?"

"Uh huh." Lydia felt a brief stab of guilt, wondering again if she could have done something to protect the man, who'd clearly just been having a bad day to begin with. "Beej…"

"Hmm?" He was giving her a long, distracted look at the moment, like he wasn't really paying attention to what she was saying now. "Something bugging you, Lyds?"

"I just, think maybe we should stop trying to get in so much trouble." She ran her fingers helplessly through her hair, as he gave no response, other than a grunt, still studying something just below her waistline. "I'm serious! You didn't need to go after that guy, he couldn't have fucking _hurt _us…"

"Those are some real nice lacy things you're wearing there, babes." Beetlejuice interjected suddenly, his lips twisting in a leer. "You know I love the way you look in red… Come on, turn around for me."

Lydia paused in bafflement, and looked down, only to flush slightly at the sheer ridiculousness of trying to have a serious conversation with _Beetlejuice _while she was standing there in nothing but a t-shirt and panties. Thank god the mirror only showed her from her stomach up…

"Oh… Forget it!" She growled, more amused than annoyed, as she moved past him to grab a skirt from her wardrobe.

Beetlejuice just chuckled away… And then she was aware of his hands at her waist, and his lips at her throat, and after only the most fleeting murmur of invitation, cold breath against soft skin, Lydia found that she had, indeed, forgotten what was bothering her…

As usual.

----------------


	4. A Precarious Peace

If the world was the way I wanted it, not only would the _idea_ for Beetlejuice be mine, but so would Beetlejuice himself. That is, alas, not the case. I don't own any of it, not Lyds, not Beej, not the Neitherworld... Basically not anything in these pages that can otherwise be accredited to Tim Burton, and/or the Geffen Film Company. Now, there is some stuff in here that is mine... But you? You're reading this for _Beetlejuice_... And Lydia. And them together. Am I right?

----------------

Shortest chapter I've written for a while... But there's really nothing to add to it.

However, I **_do_** have something to say. _Squee!_ Ahem, yes, you heard me, squee. S-Q-U-E-E. That, dear readers, is a fangirl squee. I'm certain at least a few of you are familiar with them. See, Spencers13, (who writes both occasionally here, in _this_ particular fandom, in fact, and offers wonderful drawings on deviantart as well,) was kind enough to draw a picture of me with her OC, Kyle.

Therefore, the squee. Let me say it again. _SQUEE!_ Because no one has ever done that for me, see, drawn _me_, and because the way she drew me, I turned out beautiful, and just because it's a very emotional, beautiful picture, and... I don't know, personal, in a way that's really flattering. You know? I mean, I love fanart of my stories, really, REALLY do, but this was, like I said, personal somehow.

Ahem. Um. Feel free to pop over to deviantart. Don't take my word for it. :)

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They hadn't seen Lydia in two days now… Never mind that at some point over the previous day, she _had_ come home- albeit briefly. The hum of her new spectral energy danced through her room like tiny threads of warm light, kissing everything she'd touched, and then, like her, just gone.

Adam sat on her bed, head bowed, hands folded, lips pressed into a thin line, hidden behind laced fingers. He was staring at an open photo album on his lap, the girl, his daughter, or near enough to be, maybe thirteen in the picture, holding up a spider above her head, the size of both her hands outstretched, grasped firmly and unafraid around the middle, while holding the camera with her other hand, leaving her shakily off center. She looked like any kid, having the time of her life.

He turned the page. It had gripped him, some time during the night, to come in here, and take away all ideas the girl had left of 'secrets…' She'd been lying to them for years, never seeming to care what it did to them, and he was tired of pretending he was okay with it. He wanted to know _everything_.

It hadn't taken long to find more clues to her secret life than he would have ever guessed she'd hidden there, so close to where he or Barb or Olivia could find them, if they'd ever thought to look. Album after album of pictures, obviously nothing from this world. How he could have ever mistaken them for something photo-shopped… Endless piles of sketches, more than a few of them of the poltergeist, others of strange, twisted creatures, who may never have been human. A world he'd never imagined existed, much less was an everyday part of her life…

Colored images, with smoothly pigmented charcoals, that said she'd seen _sandworms_, for god's sake, closer than he would have ever wanted her to.

He couldn't quite bring himself to read her diary though, and once the page was turned, he dropped his hand to the side, absently, resting it on the thick leather cover, fingers tracing the words etched across the front. '_Book of Shadows_…' What did that mean, anyway? It looked like a spell book… But beneath the original scribe, Lydia had painted, in odd, white nail polish, 'Diary.' Like it was an afterthought. Or an invitation.

In truth, Adam wasn't sure which disturbed him more, that she'd managed to hide this whole other side of her life from them for so long, or that she really had, in the end, gone to so few _pains _to hide it. The signs were everywhere. Open a drawer, any drawer, and he'd find some sign of the poltergeist. Open her wardrobe, and find a crude drawing of a sandworm on the back panel, obviously not drawn by her. Notes, scattered here and there in old boxes, on paper that had to be decades old.

The desk, itself, was as supernatural a thing as he'd ever seen in his short afterlife, when he actually bothered to look at it. He even realized now that, logically, it never should have fit through her doorway in the first place. And every available space much larger than it should be, with hidden places packed full of forbidden treasures. He could even pick out which presents were from Beetlejuice, and which from Vincent. The prince's gifts were always so over-the-top, that he was certain they were worth more than some people lives… Or afterlives.

And yet it was her new husband's trinkets, trash and twisted oddities, that were tucked away with an odd tenderness, each carefully in its own place, each worn from much handling… And most important to Adam's mind, most _carefully_ hidden, to make certain they'd never be stumbled onto by accident. As if he'd really have fewer questions over a solid jade belt with a spider clasp, than a worn ace of spades.

It wasn't clear what he was feeling. He was almost sure though, that it was nothing like he'd ever felt in his own _living _life. Not even when they found out that Barb would probably never be able to have a baby. That _they_ would never be able to have a baby.

But yes, if he thought about it, despair, a sort of frustrated desperation, an overwhelming _unfairness_… That was the same. But most of all, just the unavoidable sense that something infinitely precious had just been yanked from his grasp, and in the end, he couldn't do a damn thing about it.

Helplessness. Utter helplessness.

And he couldn't help but notice, that in all these pictures she was in, his daughter just looked so happy. Happier than he'd ever seen her. Happier than any of them had ever been able to make her. And that made it feel like his fault. Like it was something that he'd failed to do, that made this whole mess end up this way. For the death of him, he just couldn't convince himself that there wasn't something he could have done to have _prevented_ this.

"Adam?" At his wife's worried tone, the dead man lifted his head, blinked, and realized that he was having trouble focusing his eyes. He wasn't certain at first if he was just tired, or crying… But no, no, just tired. She poked her head around the doorframe, warm brown eyes watching him tenderly, a sort of sense of acceptance there that he himself fought against… And knew she did too, even as she fought to make peace with how everything had changed. "Are you all right?"

"I'm…" He started to say, only to have his own words failed him, and taste sour-bitter on his tongue. What was he going to say? That he was fine? He grimaced, and shook his head, turning another page, not saying any more.

Barbara came into the room slowly, turning her eye around it, as if seeing Lydia's presence everywhere she looked, just as her husband could feel the casual, tingling brush of her energy, as he rifled through her things. He half expected her to say something about violating their daughter's privacy… Instead, she just came over and sat next to him on the bed, sliding her arm around his back, tucking her chin into his shoulder, and peering over his arm at the photos of distorted lights and savage angles.

"She's really good." Barbara said at last, reaching over him, and tracing an image of what had to be two ghosts, but somehow came across in a dazzling display on light across the lens, cascading across a torrent of falling water.

"I know." He agreed, almost angrily, despite his best intentions to sound calm. They'd missed so much… When had she learned to take pictures like this? How could they not have _known_? "And she wasn't more than fourteen when she filled this album."

A small pause, as his wife let this sink in. "How many are there?" She asked, a little slowly, as if dreading the answer to such an innocuous question.

"Twenty-seven." He said simply, though he'd obviously not had time to go through even half of them yet… However long ago he'd woken up. "I think this was one of her first ones." And this was all he said, and for a moment again, it hung between them, how much had happened without their knowing it.

"I think she's actually better than her mother." Barb noted softly, sort of a guilty admission, as if as, as her first friend, she should always like Olivia's pictures better.

Adam wasted no such effort. "She is." He agreed simply, closing the book, and setting it aside, on top of her still locked diary. He had no intention of putting anything back where it belonged. He intended for it to come to a head… Or at least an understanding. There would be no more secrets. No more lies. Even if it was too late to make a damn bit of difference. "How _is _Olivia?"

A soft sigh against his shoulder, before the ghost woman drew away, soft lips pursed with worry. "Still breathing." She answered simply, like this was saying so much. "I checked on her before I came to find you. As hard as she's been pressing herself at work lately, I think that's the most we can ask for." A small, weighted silence, before softly, she whispered, "She's really afraid of losing her job, Adam. What are we going to do?"

There was of course, only one answer to this, and he knew that Barbara knew it as well as he did. "There's nothing we can do, Barbara." He reminded her anyway, reaching for her hand with a tired expression. "We're dead. We can't do anything anymore."

A small sound fell from the ghost woman's lips, acceptance or protest he couldn't tell. "Adam…" So softly, her voice almost a muffled whimper. "Things… aren't going to be okay, are they? I mean," She waved her arm, uselessly. "Lydia's never here anymore, and we're always fighting whenever she is. Edmond hasn't even tried to talk to Olivia, and Beetlejuice…" She shook her head. "And then with Olivia maybe losing her job…"

"I can't stand this. I really can't _stand _this." A frustrated, helpless glance in her husband's direction. "We're going to lose everything, aren't we, Adam? We're going to lose _all_ of them."

Adam shook his head, taking Barb firmly by the hand, and held on, hard, his next words firm and reassuring, even if the expression in his eyes was no more convinced than she was. "We're _not_ going to lose them, honey." He said simply, as if this was just the one thing that absolutely couldn't be taken away from them. "They wouldn't let that happen, and neither would we."

Before she could press this, something in the room, shifted a little, and the brush of warm energy returned in a rush, leaving them turning in surprise to see their daughter popping up literally out of nowhere, looking half asleep, distracted, muttering under her breath, not really to either of them, "Urg… poncho… goddamn tired…" Before pausing, more than a little surprised, first to see them, then to see the state that Adam had left her room in.

"Huh." Was all she said after this though, her lips turning just briefly into a frown, before that emotion was dismissed, apparently as no more than an annoyance. "Okay, now that we've got that out of the way…" She turned to the two ghosts, took in their distressed appearance, and ran her fingers through her tousled black mop, clearly uneasy, but unwilling to cry foul at the ransacking of her privacy. "You two look like hell."

"We're… fine, honey." Adam assured her, straightening his glasses, and doing his best to look like he was in control of his own emotions. "Just doing a little catching up on the things we missed out on."

"Uh-huh." Lydia murmured, turning from one to the other, dark brown eyes narrowed in thought as she considered each of them in turn. "You can't lie worth shit." She decided at last, flatly. "Obviously I didn't learn that particular skill from you two."

It was a little surprising, how blatantly unapologetic she was for the years of secrets she was referring to, and it gave both her foster parents pause, as she did anything but try to avoid the lingering feelings of betrayal between them. "Lydia…" Barbara protested weakly, feeling like even now, it was something they just shouldn't be talking about so easily, while Adam, for his part, couldn't manage a reaction at all.

"If you wanna talk about it, we'll talk about it." Lydia cut in, clearly not up for any tear-jerking speeches, and looking more than anything, like she wanted to just go back to wherever she'd just come from, and finish sleeping off her day. "I'm not going to say I'm sorry I lied, because I still think I pretty much had to…"

"But since it's all out in the open now, if you've got questions for me, just _ask_, okay?" She grabbed her desk chair as she was offering this, spinning it around, and sitting, as she added, sighing, "Forget this sneaking around stuff. I've got nothing to hide anymore. So go on. Shoot."

Neither Maitland offered a word, just sort of staring at her, utterly lost for how to respond to an invitation like this. There were a lot of things they still really weren't ready to know, after all… And as the silence dragged between them, Lydia just sort of tucked her forehead between thumb and forefinger, looked tired, patient, and for once, didn't say anything to either one, to push their buttons. And Lydia of course, was always pushing people's buttons. Even before she'd met Beetlejuice.

"To be perfectly honest," Adam offered at last, with a bit of a strained smile, "I don't think either one of us would know where to start, honey. Why don't you just tell us what you want us to know?"

Lydia lifted her head, just a little, and managed a trace of her usual smirk. "I thought that's how this mess got started." She noted dryly, then gestured sort of absently, in the direction of the pile of albums to one side. "Pick a book, any book…"

Then, a brief pause, as something changed in her features. "Actually, here, pick this one." Before they could react to her first suggestion, she was already on her feet again, apparently no longer tired in the least, and yanked a thick red album from the middle of the pile, somehow without making any of the others topple over. "You're going to love this…"

She dropped right onto the bed next to Adam, flipped the book open to a random page, seriously, and pointed at a set of pictures very different from the ones he'd been looking at before. "These are the shots I took with my _new_ camera." She murmured, with some satisfaction. "No more orbs of light, see?"

First she indicated what looked like a disturbingly large, oddly colored spider, with decidedly human-like features, dressed in hot pink silks. She noted, matter-of-factly, "That's Ginger. Except for Beej and the prince, I've known her longer than anyone else there." A pause, then, with some note of this being important, she added, "Her act is seriously taking off right now, she just made her first gig as a headliner. Girl's got feet so fast you just can't even follow them."

"_This_," She went on without hesitating, flipping through a handful of pages until she found the right one, "Is Jacques la Lean. He's a body builder." A skeleton, with no muscles whatsoever to account for the term 'bodybuilder,' beamed up from the page with an unsettling grin, wearing the most stereotypically French outfit Adam could have imagined, thin handlebar mustache neatly trimmed, eerie red coals burning from some depths of his otherwise empty sockets, looking pleased as anything. "He's Ginger's roommate. Accent thick as cheese, and doesn't have a bad-tempered bone in his body."

Flip. Again. A mass of hair, with no discernable facial features, other than a widely grinning maw blessed with enormous teeth, towered over a scrawny flesh-colored animal, vaguely dog-like, while the first tipped a too-small cowboy hat to the camera. "That's The-Monster-Across-The-Street… That's actually his name. I don't think he was ever alive _or _human. And that's his little Poopsie-Woopsie." Finally a grin at this, like it was some private joke. "Beej is a royal ass to both of them… But they always put up with me anyway. Even though I'm usually the reason he's showing off in the first place."

She lifted her head now, fanning her fingers across both open pages, and met Adam's gaze straight on, her lips drawn a little tight, but smiling anyway. Kind of like she was just determined to get through this as pleasantly as possible, regardless of whether she wanted to be having this discussion or not. "See… I always have gotten along with the dead, better than the living. Here? This world? I've managed to make two friends, my whole life. Living anyway. That's it."

A pause, followed by a lifting of her hand, and a brief gesture at the page she'd been concealing a moment before. "But check it out… There? Everyone's a freak. So no one thinks _I_ am."

Adam sighed, drawing his fingertips down his face in pressed patience. "Lydia… You're not a freak…"

"You're wrong." The goth girl denied flatly, closing the album with a slow sense of finality. "But you two have always been so ready to think there's nothing weird about me… So that's not strange. You're so nice it's freaky in itself. But the rest of the world doesn't work that way… You don't believe me?" She flicked her eyes up, first to Adam, then to Barbara. "Ask mom how many friends _she_ has, other than you two."

At this, neither one seemed to have a ready reply, both just sort of looking caught off guard, like it had honestly never occurred to them to question it before. Or at least not anytime recently.

Her foster mother folded her hands, tightly enough across her middle that she seemed to be wringing them, and couldn't seem to look away from the goth girl. Adam, utterly silent, gazed off at nothing, lips twisted in a frown. "I'm sure your mother…" He started to say, only to be interrupted by Lydia, with a sigh.

"If she did, don't you think you two would _know_?" The question made them fall silent again, as she'd known it would, and she considered them with a sense of frustration and guilt. God, why were the people in her life so blinded to what they didn't want to see? Was everyone like that? Or was it just her own family?

Was _she_?

She wasn't sure she should say this next part… She knew it was a deep cut. And as much as anything, that was why she needed to say it. Even if she'd hate herself later. "Dad's the only person she ever let anywhere near her." She pointed out, quietly. "And everything was perfect, totally lovey-dovey… Right up until they had their first actual fight, and then she was ready to drop him like he'd never meant a damn thing."

"That's not true…" Barbara protested, but just like with Adam, Lydia wasn't up to letting _her _argue the point either.

"You know damn well," She denied quietly, meeting her foster mother's gaze without flinching, "That from the second my dad even hinted about forcing her to make a choice between you two and him, she never had a second thought about which one she was going to choose." And if _she_ had to face up to it, then they should too.

That though, was about as long as she was willing to dwell on that, before she decided, as straightforwardly as possible, to get to the point. "But forget my parents for now. Forget whether I'm a freak, or whether you want to believe it… Whether mom and I prefer dealing with the dead, and what it might mean… And please, forget trying to figure out what the hell is which person's fault? Because there's really no point, trying to figure out _why_ anything…"

"…And because none of that's got anything to do with the reason you're in my room, picking through my things in the middle of the night. Right?"

A small pause, to let this sink in, and then as evenly as possible, "So understand this, right now. You can be angry I lied. You've got good reason. I'll even be the first to admit it. _And _you can think I'm too obsessed with death. I dunno, maybe I am. You can pilfer through my stuff. Whatever. You can tell me I'm wrong about being a freak. You can even hate Beetlejuice… God knows you're not the only ones I love who do…"

"But _don't_," And here her voice turned to something… _else_, as she rose slowly to her feet, regarding the two, both some height taller than her, like she was the one currently towering over them, "_Don't _do what my dad did to my mom. _Don't _make me choose. Not between you and Beej, not between this world and the Neitherworld, and not between my friends and my family! Because I swear to _god_…"

And here, the first trace of weakness entered her voice, as she made no effort to soften what she was saying to the two people she loved most in this world, "It'll be the one that makes me _choose_, that I'm going to end up walking away from."

Then, in a quieter tone, completely counter to the one she'd just used, she went on, not quite as strongly as before. Tired. Frustrated. Annoyed with everyone's inability to just _understand _what she was going through. "I just… really want to keep you all." And a smaller pause followed, before, almost as if she already expected them to argue it, "_Please_?"

And then, before either of _them _could answer, she turned to the spot just behind her, where Beetlejuice had been floating unseen for the past few minutes, utterly silent as she'd made her little speech, with nothing to indicate what he thought either way… And she said it again. "_Please_?"

Slowly, the poltergeist turned visible, looking as uncomfortable as if she'd just caught him with his hand down another woman's blouse, frowning, and twisting at his wiry hair with his fingers, looking anywhere but at her. And hell if she wasn't the only one who could ever make him feel like he'd done shit wrong… And she knew it, and _knew _he gave a damn, without his saying anything at all.

"Well hell, babes…" He grunted at last, lifting serious green eyes to her, even as a guilty little smirk crossed his lips, "You know _I_ ain't gonna tell you to do shit." A pause, and then, almost pointedly, with his first trace of irritation, "That don't mean I gotta play _nice_ with these yuppies, does it?"

Lydia smiled, both with the realization that he in fact, probably would, if she asked him now… And a moment's reflection that if he wasn't asking her to change her life upside down for him, why did she keep thinking he needed to change for anything? Her mind had been plagued lately with ideas that she needed to rein him in, or make him start behaving, or… what? And _why_?

_I'm growing up… _It was almost an unwelcome thought, and made her frown, 'd never figured herself for giving up childhood ideas, just because she got older. _Changing, I guess. But he's been pretty much the same guy since before I was born… He's not growing up any more than he is now._ And besides, this was the him she'd fallen in love with… the him that… had offered her so _much_…

"N- Um… no." She denied, slowly, though she knew she'd never be able to explain her logic to her parents. "Damn it, Beej…" A curse, a sigh, "I don't want you to change a _damn _thing you don't want to. I swear."

Clearly he had no idea what had just been going through her pretty dark head, because he just gave her an odd little look, arched one brow, and made a small, solid sound with his tongue. "Wasn't planning on it, Lyds." He assured her, a little dryly. "But now that we got that outta the way… What the _hell _am I supposed to do with the in-laws?"

What to say to that? "Shit, Beej… I don't know." She offered simply, finally smiling at the sheer ridiculousness of the situation, which was only really now making itself apparent to her. "Just… try not to make them hate me, I guess. Think you can do that?"

"Lydia!" Barbara's protest, a sort of heart-broken sound, as she moved instinctively to reassure her. "Honey… We could _never_ hate you!"

"Barbara's right." Adam agreed, softly, sternly. "You should know better than that." A brief pause, followed by a bit of a strained smile. "You're our little girl."

Ignoring Beetlejuice's derisive snort, as well as his comment about, '_a fucked up family tree you got going there, Lyds…'_ Lydia gave both parents a grateful smile, and allowed herself one brief moment to wish she could be sure the rest of the family felt the same way. But Edmond and Olivia were a whole other mess… And not one she was willing to deal with just then.

For now though, thankfully, she didn't have to. Lydia felt herself swept up in Barbara's embrace as the ghost reached her, and closed her eyes, not protesting the possessive grasp, or the way the woman seemed to want to hold her away from the whole world, at least for a few seconds. "I don't want to keep secrets from you anymore." She promised quietly, tightening her fingers gently on the ghost woman's dress. "I'm not really a spoiled little brat. Even if I act like it."

"Sez you…" Beetlejuice muttered good-humoredly, followed almost instantly by the sense of his magic tugging her, just as possessively, from Barbara's arms, and twisting her through the air with that sense of being between places, briefly, before she reformed, quite firmly clutched in his lap. "But hell, you know _I_ love it…" He murmured silkily in her ear, giving her a slow squeeze. "And if these two saps are worth half the shit you think they are, they ain't gonna ask you to be something you're not, just to fix their crap!"

It was actually a lot like what she'd been thinking about him, really. And Lydia just giggled, relieved that at least with Beetlejuice, she never had to worry about being anyone but herself, and still knowing she belonged…

Only for a soft, short sound of further amusement to interrupt her, and make her twist her head in surprise, to see Adam Maitland regarding the design across the ceiling of her room, with an expression surprisingly like agreement. "It can't be a good thing when _Beetlejuice_ starts making sense." He muttered aloud, dropping his gaze to hers, with sort of a defeated shrug. "But I'll be damned if anything else does."

"We're too close to losing too much right now." Barbara agreed, a little less certainly, as she considered the poltergeist, and her daughter's position in his lap. "We're not going to do anything to risk losing you now." A pause, and, pointedly, "Even if it does mean having Beetlejuice as a son-in-law."

This was too much to resist, and a decidedly nasty expression snaked itself across Beetlejuice's lips, _almost_ perfectly disguised as a smile. "_Mom_." He chuckled with a hiss, extending his arm towards her in a companionable way, despite being halfway across the room, "_Dad."_

"You two, are gonna make the best family ever… No, I mean it! Really. You… Me…" A pointedly indecent squeeze of the goth girl in his arms, "Little Lyds here…" He chuckled again, managing to make both of them frown uncertainly, which was of course his intention. "This is gonna be absolutely the fucking _best_…"

_Well_, Lydia reflected, amused, resigned, and for the moment, content, _I did say he didn't have to change_. And knowing Beetlejuice? And for that matter, _especially _knowing her, _with _Beetlejuice? That was probably a good thing.

Assuming they survived each other after all, the rest of the world didn't stand a chance…

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	5. Normal Enough, Anyway

If the world was the way I wanted it, not only would the _idea_ for Beetlejuice be mine, but so would Beetlejuice himself. That is, alas, not the case. I don't own any of it, not Lyds, not Beej, not the Neitherworld... Basically not anything in these pages that can otherwise be accredited to Tim Burton, and/or the Geffen Film Company. Now, there is some stuff in here that is mine... But you? You're reading this for _Beetlejuice_... And Lydia. And them together. Am I right?

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Not quite as long a wait that time... Almost. But on the other hand, I am pretty happy with this chapter, so... Trade off, I guess. If you like it too, anyway. (crosses fingers)

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There was little to no light in the relatively empty-featured room, flat blank walls, a featureless wooden floor, a single, flickering bulb. As if everything had recently been ripped out, to start new… So to speak, since everything that _was _there, was unmistakably old. If, admittedly, decently preserved.

A whisper of movement curled at the fine layer of dust across the age-worn floor, though it was a moment more before the reason became evident, as, with a sigh and a little groan, Lydia dropped from between places, more or less to her knees, clutching the once bright red piece of clothing to her chest. Stifling a yawn, she looked around for Beej, who made his appearance more slowly, and with far more control.

The poltergeist chuckled when he saw her position on the dirty floor, and waggled his eyebrows teasingly. "Getting tired, babes?" He taunted, lifting her from the ground with a flick of his fingers, before snatching the poncho easily from her grasp, never so much as putting his own feet down. "I'm telling you, it's those damn in-laws… They'll sap the strength outta anybody!"

"They're not _my_ in-laws." Lydia grumbled good-naturedly, stifling her yawn again as she cast her gaze appraisingly across the now empty den, every grain of aged wood now sparking, ever so subtly, with either her or Beetlejuice's energy, as it had been restored to livability… All for her sake, of course. "Okay, we got the damn poncho… _You_ know I love the thing, but I don't see what you want with it. It's not like I need it anymore."

"Yeah…" Beetlejuice sort of drawled the word, holding the heavy length of red out at the end of his arms, and considering it with what, in another man, she might have called fond memory… Like he actually gave a damn, how every time they'd come to this god-forsaken dimension together, she'd been swathed up in it like a new child out in the cold for the first time. "But you know, babes? It just don't make sense to throw good shit away."

Drifting past her without further explanation, he tugged it to his nose, briefly, and sucked in the scent of her that had become permanently engrained in the heavy fabric over the years. And damn if it didn't still smell like that pumpkin and clove body wash she bought every Halloween, too…

Lydia regarded him curiously, kind of touched that he'd want to keep the souvenir of so many visits together… Though in all honesty, the man _was_ a packrat of mythical proportions. "So where's it gonna go?" She pressed, trailing along in his wake, her own two feet firmly planted on the floor.

Beetlejuice grinned over his shoulder at her, hooking his thumb front ways. "Figured we'd put it over the fireplace, Lyds!" He noted good-humouredly… Which he'd kind of have to be, considering they didn't actually have a fireplace.

"Uh-huh…" Lydia agreed slowly, ready to be the butt of yet another of her husband's ever-ready jokes. "Just one thing missing then, I guess…"

"Nah. Should be here any minute." He chuckled, folding the poncho over one arm, and looking smug. "Matter of fact-"

At that moment, a heavy, ominous booming echoed through the room, rattling the loose boards in the walls, and filling Lydia's head with a sound rather similar to an earthbound thunder. Unable to suppress a little yelp of startlement, Beetlejuice's nasty snicker left her giving him a sour look as she covered her ears, trying to dim the sound. "What the hell…?" She murmured, more or less unheard in the continuing barrage of sound filling the air…

And ending only when Beetlejuice swung the far wall open, the door that led outside as large and unwieldy as she remembered, though the two of them rarely used it. Beetlejuice, to someone outside, bellowed, "Far wall, buddy!" …And _quickly _moved out of the way, as two large creatures with muscles to spare, and little to nothing in the way of necks, plodded their way across the ancient floor, threatening to bust through the fragile planks with every step, a massive cube of what seemed like solid granite carried easily between them.

"Well, damn." Lydia whispered, taking in the sight of the thick-limbed, equally rock-like entities, somehow not crashing through into the basement with their heavy load, as the floor creaked and groaned in protest under their abuse.

"Golems, babes." Beetlejuice noted matter-of-factly, kicking back and watching the show from approximately four feet in midair, and enjoying a box of hot buttered beetles that had appeared mysteriously, perched on his gut. "Gotta tell you, dumb as fucking bricks, but if you actually manage to piss one off, they can rip a sandworm in two with their bare mitts." In a slightly louder voice, "Goddamn it, against the wall! _The wall!_"

A sound like grinding stone filled the air as one of the creatures turned its head, balefully took in the sight of the poltergeist currently not doing a damn thing to help, before turning impassively, and mutely, back to its assigned task. This time, the two managed to successfully place the heavy stone block against the far wall… Where, with a brief bracing, and a solid shove, said wall quickly gave _way_, with an explosion of splinters, until the brick was firmly encased within it.

Lydia just stared, caught off guard by the apparently willful destruction of the wall she herself had so recently repaired… Only for Beetlejuice to finally touch his feet down, with a grunt of satisfaction, and gesture rudely for them to go back the way they'd came. "Go on, get the hell out of here… I can do the rest, you rotten piles of clay for brains."

The girl gave a brief glance to her husband, as the two golems turned, and, still without so much as a word of protest, filed back out of the room, not giving either one of them another glance. She had the feeling that, warning given or not, Beetlejuice was _trying_ to provoke the two into violence… But she wasn't him, so just before the door swung shut again, Lydia waved to the mountains of rock, and yelled, quickly, "Thanks!" Not that she was sure they deserved it, after destroying their living room…

One of the heavy, silent creatures, turned, and regarded her with empty black pits where its eyes should be, before turning, with no indication that it cared either way, and continuing out the door… Which Beetlejuice, chuckling, slammed shut. "Goddamn it, babes… You really are the only decent person in this whole goddamn hellhole."

"It wouldn't kill _you _to be decent, once in a while." She noted, not really expecting he'd take her advice, and not disappointed when his only reply was a notably rude gesture, that took both hands, and one arm to complete. Ignoring him, she ran her fingers tiredly through her hair, and regarded the mess at the far end of the room with a sense of exasperation. "Well, now what?"

"Not to worry, babes…" Beetlejuice assured her, with a heavy air of self-satisfaction, as he rolled up his sleeves, "I'll fix it!"

She didn't see exactly what he did, but for a moment the air was filled with the sense of him, so heavy and so thick that she felt it prickling tangibly across her skin, while a taste like burning ozone filled the air. It only lasted long enough to _really _take it in, long enough for her to realize that however strong she'd gotten over the past few months, her husband was still way, _way_ stronger…

And then, briefly, everything bent. And as Lydia watched, the stone cube _unfolded_, become many stone plates, which in turn unfolded again and again, becoming broken, jagged pieces, crawling across both the opening, and up the wall itself, gray and black, like a storm cloud, all in a matter of seconds…

Until before them, dark and roughly hewn and undeniably a piece of sculpture that could have been taken straight out of Frankenstein's castle, stood a widely yawning fireplace, filled with jagged rows of teeth, and a sense of heat pouring from it below, giving the whole thing an uncanny resemblance to some recently rent portal to hell.

"Oh, deadly-_vu_!" Lydia breathed, now appreciating the look of splintered wood around it, which Beetlejuice had left, though she knew he could have fixed that too, just as easily. "Oh, Beej!" It became a sort of happy squeal, and she propelled herself in a handful of steps, across the room, and up into his arms. "Oh Beetlejuice, it's perfect! It's the creepiest, nastiest, freakiest…!"

"-Who knows you better than me, babes?" He muttered with an affectionate rasp, dropping his lips to her head, and giving her ass a light squeeze. He seemed very pleased with himself though, even more than usual, and certainly didn't protest when Lydia lifted her face, grabbed him firmly by the lapels, and pulled him down into a much more thorough kiss.

Grudgingly, Beetlejuice was the one to push her away when it was done though, with a low growl as he straightened, and looked around the room with a half-hearted scowl. Running his fingers across his tangled mat of hair, he gave the girl a short, strained look, and managed, after a moment, to summon a crooked smirk. "So hell, babes… Are we fucking _done_ yet? I wanna go to bed…" And for once, the words didn't even hold any lewd suggestion to them. He was just _tired_.

Lydia, not put off in the least, smiled gently, and leaned back into his arms, a feather weight against his thick chest, tangling her fingers with absent affection around his belt. "We're nowhere _near_ done, Beej… But we've got a good start. I'm all for calling it a day."

"You owe me…" He muttered good-naturedly, hooking an arm around her shoulder, and heading towards the stairs, too tired even to simply float through the ceiling, and appear in their bedroom above. "I swear to god, you're the only broad that ever managed to exhaust the fuck out of me like this, babes…" She giggled at his none-too-subtle innuendo, flaring her fingers briefly against his middle. It was almost reassuring, in its own way, to know that her husband's magic wasn't limitless…

"So how do I make it up to you?" She teased, turning her hand from pressing at his waist, to lift her fingers, twisting gently at wiry blond wisps of hair. "Anything you can think of, off the top of your head?"

Beetlejuice just chuckled, shooting her a smug little glance. "Tell you what, Lyds… I'll let you know." Then, changing the subject with a return of his former scowl, he added, "'Spose it won't fucking be tomorrow though… You heading off like always to do that school thing, and leaving me around here to twiddle my goddamn thumbs…!"

"Like you could ever twiddle your thumbs without something catching on fire, or spontaneously exploding." She reflected, briefly amused at the idea that Beetlejuice, _Beetlejuice_, ever needed anyone else to keep himself entertained. "But, um… No, actually." Her expression slowly became more serious. "I'm cutting class tomorrow. There's something we need to take care of."

His eyebrows flew up, briefly, less at the idea of her cutting class, which admittedly wasn't unheard of in the girl, than her apparent assumption that whatever she'd be doing, would involve him as well. _Without _asking him first. When it already didn't sound fun. "_We_?" He echoed aloud, drawing back a little to give the girl a dubious little glance. "You talking the royal 'we,' babes, or you just think that all you gotta do is fucking snap your fingers, and I'll just come running?"

But while he still seemed to be in a relatively good humor, Lydia's face was, again, far more serious now. Inwardly, the poltergeist sighed. She could wheedle him into doing pretty much anything she wanted with a smile and a teasing tone… If it was actually something that _meant_ a damn to her, he didn't have a chance. "Please, Beej?" was all she had to say, softly, and the powerful poltergeist was wrapped around her little finger. And he knew it.

"Yeah, yeah…" He muttered, dropping rather heavily to the double coffin bed they shared- he didn't remember the last time she'd slept in her own room- and methodically drew off his boots, one at a time. Not saying another word. Lydia, for her part, letting him stew in his silence, before he gave her a grim, measured glance, certain somehow that if this was gonna be something he _wanted_ to do, Lyds would know damn well she didn't have to beg him. "So what're '_we_' doing then, babes?"

"Well." Lydia draped her arms slowly around the near-ghost's shoulders, dropping gently into his lap. Instinctively, he pulled her small, warm body closer, and let her tuck her head just under his chin, flooding his head with the smell of her. "Things have been kind of fucked up for me the last few weeks… Not with you, I mean. The _rest_ of the goddamn world. So," Her voice dropped a little, becoming very matter-of-fact, "I'm going to fix it. Starting tomorrow."

Beetlejuice gave her a measured glance. "Just like that, huh?" He muttered, more than a little dubiously. "Well shit, you think you _can_… I sure as hell ain't gonna argue with you."

Lydia smirked, hiding the expression by pressing her face more deeply into his coat. "_Good _husband." She praised him, more or less ironically. "Now speak. Stay." A pause, then almost pointedly, "Give your wife a goddamn _kiss_."

"Oh, yeah Lyds…" He snorted, tangling his fingers briefly in her hair, and tipping her face up roughly. "'Cause you really gotta fucking tell me to do _that_…"

------------------

The room was huge, the ceilings a good ten feet tall themselves, easily a good seventy feet from end to end, and still this didn't stop it from being pack from one side to the other with swarms of hungry, pushing, _noisy_ teenagers. And of course, if they were actually doing anything _interesting_, then he'd be all for it… But no. This? This was just lunch.

Lydia wove her way through the crowd more or less expertly, like she was used to dealing with such packed masses of living bodies every day… Leaving him to trail along after her, looking about as out of place as a body could, without question the oldest one there, just from his appearance. And not really giving half a damn about that, as much as watching his wife _very_ carefully as she moved among the press of shifting hormone driven flesh, to make sure none of these college boys tried anything with _his_ babes.

Somehow, he couldn't have said just how, they emerged into a gap just to one side of the cafeteria, where no one seemed to be sitting, and Lydia pulled him against the wall, putting her own back to it, and turning to take in the sight of the feeding frenzy surroundings them. "Damn it," She muttered aloud, just as if what she had to say next were somehow strange, "I can't see _anything_."

For his part, the poltergeist still wasn't sure what she fucking _wanted_ to see, but he stood there twice as big as life, his arm thrown possessively around the girl's shoulders, giving a dirty, challenging look to the room at large. And as if the deafening _sound_ wasn't bad enough, the air was filled with all kinds of weird smelling food, none of which, in his opinion, smelled at all appetizing by itself, much less all jumbled together. Grease, and salt, and burning breads…

"So what're we doing here anyway, Lyds?" He demanded at last, finally getting a little annoyed with all the secrecy shit she'd been pulling to get him here… It wasn't the way it was done, after all. She wasn't supposed to hide shit from _him_!

"Trying to get my life back…" Lydia muttered distractedly, pushing off his arm a little, to rise up to her tiptoes. Trying to find… whatever it was they were there to take care of.

The poltergeist shot her a short, humorous glance, lips twisted up in a little sneer, as he prompted, with stage concern, "Uh, babes, you know when the guy with the funny eyes gave you that whole spiel about, 'unto eternity and ever after, throughout so long as your existence remains?' You realize he wasn't shitting you, right?"

Rising to his bait, if only a little, Lydia let a brief smile cross her lips, not quite looking at him. Thank fuck," She swore softly, if with genuine feeling behind it, "That means something in my life's going the way it's supposed to…"

Beetlejuice's eyebrows flew up, briefly, and he made a small, noncommittal sound in his throat, leaning back again, and turning his eyes back over the crowd of teenage flesh. A lot of flesh, come to think of it. Much of it female. Young, shapely, and not bothering to wear a lot to hide it. He found himself staring, naturally, before remembering the girl at his side with a jolt, and quickly turning his attention back to her, to see if he'd crossed a line… Never could tell with broads. Maybe even Lyds.

He cleared his throat slowly, relieved to note that she wasn't even paying attention. Still, might as well figure out what he could get away with now… He didn't want to piss his girl off, but hell, how was a guy not supposed to look? Especially a guy like him? "Okay…" He growled under his voice, moving a little closer to her side, "So I figure you're here after one of those little breathers that ditched your ass. But why am I here? You trying to get me in trouble, or something?"

Lydia blinked, and finally turned her attention away from her search, to regard the poltergeist with a puzzled look. When she saw his strained expression, she was even more curious. "What do you mean?"

The ghost with the most flung his arm out to indicate the room at large, and a passing chick in tight pink hot-pants in particular, giving Lydia an exasperated glance. "What the hell do you think I mean, babes?" He demanded, trying to convey, by his expression, just how helpless he was in this particular situation, _not_ to justify his libido.

For about a full second, Lydia considered the girl who'd passed, before turning back to Beetlejuice with a challenging little smirk. You realize I'm going to have to be able to trust you sooner or later, right?" She pointed out, clearly not threatened by the idea of some other woman stealing him away. "Besides," A teasing laugh fell low in her throat, as she turned back away, "_You_ know I'm the best you ever had…"

Beetlejuice's eyebrows puckered briefly in thought, not at all the reaction she would have expected, if she were still paying attention. "Matter of fact, Lyds…" He began, with every intention of telling her exactly where he thought she stood in his, admittedly _long_ line of lovers…

But before she could, Lydia grabbed his hand, hard, excited. "Hold on, there she is!" She started forward, about to leave him, when, belatedly, what he'd started to say seemed to sink in, and she stopped in her tracks, looking back at him, the tall brunette abruptly forgotten. "Huh?" She murmured eloquently, quite certain he wouldn't have started to say that, without saying something good, but still not sure he wouldn't have to be lying his ass off, for the words to be true. "What's that, Beej?"

The poltergeist grinned helplessly, a disturbingly honest look on the scheming dead man's face. "What can I say, Lyds?" He muttered, looking a little sheepish. "You make _everything_ better."

A slow smile crossed Lydia soft mouth, the slightest hint of color crossing her cheeks, not with embarrassment, but pleasure. "Beej, you are a silver-tongued sweet-talker when you want to be." This said, she didn't turn away again right away, but continued staring at her, the light in her eyes fond and warm, before she squeezed his hand lightly, and reluctantly returned her attention to her reason for being there in the first place. "Um… Snag her over here, would you?"

"Not a problem, Lyds." He assured her gallantly, straightening up a little, and adjusting his sleeves… And to all appearances, doing no more than this.

Bertha however, suddenly took a sharp turn to the left, much to the apparent bafflement on her own features, and began walking directly towards them. Her confusion of course, was nothing compared to the utter bewilderment of the young man walking with her, who seemed concerned that she might have suddenly lost all use of her senses… Unaware that she was merely being possessed.

As soon as she saw them though, any question in the girl's mind seemed to be completely cleared up… And stranger still, she grinned widely, waving at both of them. "Lydia! Mr. Beetleman! Awesome, I can't believe you're here!"

This was apparently not the response that his wife had been expecting, because Lydia stared, blankly, for upwards of a breath, before blinking, shaking her head, and returning the taller girl's smile, moving towards her just about the same time she came in range for a hug. "Where have you _been_?" Lydia demanded, clearly relieved, and more so than he'd expected, at the easy greeting from her long-time friend.

No longer controlled, Bertha returned Lydia's hug, hard enough to make the smaller girl squeak, before pulling back, looking embarrassed, and a little guilty. "Um… yeah. About that." She gestured, in a half-hearted way, to the guy currently standing next to her, looking from Lydia to Beetlejuice with a sort of dawning realization, like maybe he'd already been told many stories about both. Just _which_ stories, there was no telling… "This is, um… Brian." A goofy smile, and just a trace of a blush. "I guess he's been kind of keeping me busy."

Lydia returned the man's, Brian's, flat-out stare… And slowly seemed to understand. When she did, Beetlejuice swore that a weight dropped from her shoulders, and something deep and worried just utterly vanished from her eyes. "Oh thank _god_…" Lydia whispered under her breath, turning back to Bertha with a look of visible relief. "A _guy_… I thought you were just freaked out about the whole…" A brief pause, as she seemed to remember they weren't alone, "Um, us. You know."

If anything, Bertha looked surprised, then frowned, her brow furrowing a little, as she looked from one to the other. Beetlejuice gave her a careless grin, more than willing to assure her that, not only hadn't _he_ been worried, _he_ didn't really care either way… While Lydia, suddenly, looked kind of ashamed to have doubted her at all.

"Lydia!" The brunette cried at last, looking truly exasperated. "You _know_ I'd never do that to you!" She grabbed her, quite firmly by the arm, and all but yanked the girl back against her slight, tall frame, clenching her in a tight, guilty grip, like she had no intention of releasing her again. "I told you all _along _that I thought Mr. Beetleman was cool…"

"Um… Kid?" Beetlejuice choose this moment to interrupt, reminding her, pointedly, "You do realize that's not actually my name, right?"

It was just the kind of mood-breaker they needed- Which had pretty much been the plan, after all- And Lydia giggled, shoving at Bertha playfully, while her friend just grinned, seeming to find the whole thing kind of funny. "You _ass_!" The goth girl teased her, seeming to have some trouble with her eyes, the way she suddenly had to wipe at them. "You blew me off for some _guy_ I don't even _know_… And you can't even _tell_ me?"

"I was gonna…" Bertha mumbled, finally letting the girl go, and running her fingers through her long hair awkwardly. "Geez Lydia, why'd you think I ditched you? I mean, didn't you think I might just be busy? I _am_ in college now…"

That quickly, Lydia's good mood seemed to dampen, and she frowned, not quite looking at the other girl anymore. "I saw Prudence in town the other day, is all…" She admitted quietly, kind of like this was the last thing she wanted to talk about, "And she kind of, pretended not to see us. You know? Kind of went out of her way not to see us. I thought maybe you…"

"Damn her." Bertha muttered under her breath, sort of sighing. "Come on, Lydia. She'd been kind of freaked out about this the whole time, you know? She's always thought Mr. Beetleman was weird, and… I don't know. She was kind of spooked by him, even before she knew he was a ghost."

At her easy admittance of, well, him, Beetlejuice cast a surreptitious glance at 'Brian,' who was, after now, now watching him with a rather studying look… Dubious too. Apparently, he wasn't so quick to believe Bertha's stories… And apparently, _Bertha_ had no trouble telling the world about _all _their little secrets.

Grunting noncommittally, Beetlejuice latched one arm around his babe's waist, and sort of stared off into the distance, not really paying attention to what the two girls went on about next. _He _was already trying to figure damage control, since he knew damn well word of this was gonna get to Juno, _somehow_. She always knew when Breathing sorts found out about the afterlife. And here was this little beanpole, gabbing on about meeting ghosts like it was some kind of common knowledge… Well, shit. One way or another, _this_ was going to be blamed on him too.

Though, then again, why did he give a fuck either way? Juno was always on his case about something… He'd never cared enough to change his ways over it. Well, didn't really now, either… Just didn't want to have to take any crap for it, when it wasn't even his fault to begin with…

That reminded him. His babes may have made peace with this kid, but there was still that other little traitor to deal with… Oh yeah, not mention _she_ was the one to rat him out to Olivia…

He cleared his throat, glanced down at Lydia, and decided that she would more or less be okay for a while, catching up with the other girl. "Uh, hey, babes…" He prompted smoothly, deciding this was as good a time as any to square things away, "You mind if I take off a bit? I mean, you seem to have got things worked away here pretty good… And I'm just shit at this hen party stuff…"

Lydia cast him a short, amused glance, seeming to find his choice of words somehow endearing, and bumped her hip against his leg, in a sort of dismissive way. "You go on then… Do whatever the hell it is you do to amuse yourself when I'm not around. God knows I don't want to know what it is."

He grinned, toothily, all too aware that she was more right than she wanted to know about that one… Probably still considered having some kind of debt to the girl, then being friends for so long… "Goddamn it, babes," He muttered, matter-of-factly, "You know me so well." Pausing long enough to flip off the Brian kid, he turned his back on the lot, and without bothering to find a little less conspicuous place to do his disappearing act, vanished to mortal sight in front of all fucking three of them.

Let the little prick doubt _that_.

Not actually gone yet, just invisible, he snorted in silent amusement at the dumbfounded college kid's jaw dropping, and eyes bulging, like something out of one of those cheap horror flicks his babes loved so much. He'd _had_ to stay to see that reaction…

But now he had better things to do, and best friend or not, wife or not, _person-who-knew-him-goddamn-well-better-than-anyone-else-in-the-frigging-world-or-not_, he was gonna make damn sure his babes never found out about this one…

No use ruining a good revenge juicing with _consequences, _right?

_------------------_


	6. Best Laid Plans

If the world was the way I wanted it, not only would the _idea_ for Beetlejuice be mine, but so would Beetlejuice himself. That is, alas, not the case. I don't own any of it, not Lyds, not Beej, not the Neitherworld... Basically not anything in these pages that can otherwise be accredited to Tim Burton, and/or the Geffen Film Company. Now, there is some stuff in here that is mine... But you? You're reading this for _Beetlejuice_... And Lydia. And them together. Am I right?

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.....

.....uh.....

Okay. Two months since my last update. New job, writer's block, a feeling of increased dissatisfaction with even the idea of writing, much less wanting to sit down and write, Christmas shopping, an overwhelming frustration with the current story... All excuses that don't count for much of crap. Oh well. I'll try to be much quicker with the next update. Much. Meanwhile, as usual after any length of hiatus, I wonder if the current chapter fits the previous flow of the story at _all_...

At least it's a different view of what happened with Pru...

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She sat at the desk silently, eyes slightly downcast, fingers flared across the book in front of her, complicated mathematical equations spilling across its pages. A slightly wilted salad sat just to one side, sans dressing. Cut long-way, twice, and across, twice, and then just left more or less untouched, like her appetite had pretty much only lasted long enough to actually prepare to eat, before fleeing her.

Precise, horn-rimmed glasses, atop a tiny button nose, tired eyes gazing at numbers that had long since ceased to make sense. The tip of her thumb, grasped tightly between precise, perfect teeth. Too tightly. Unaware of the pain that had been lancing her hand for the past five minutes.

It had all gone to hell. Suddenly gripped by a sense of frustration, of overwhelming self-disgust, Prudence shoved the contents of her desk rudely to the side, and tipped her head forward onto her hands, hiding herself behind a short curtain of brilliant red. Her eyes, squeezed tightly shut.

So here she was. Studying at more or less _the_ most prestigious school in the country, tuition paid for by a multitude of scholarships before she ever set foot in the goddamn door… Her dream for as long as she could remember…

And all she did was sit here, day after day, closed up in this private dorm she'd been _so_ fortunate to get, sitting not ten feet away from one of the best computers money could buy, rebuilt top to bottom to be _better_ than money could buy.

Thinking of Winter River. A town almost a thousand miles away, currently, visited not more than a handful of days before. Ruining everything. Again.

She'd had every intention of going back there to make things right. Hadn't even slept the night before her flight, thinking of seeing her friends again, her best friends, goddamnit, the only friends she'd ever had… Rehearsing her apologies and excuses a hundred times, a mile in the air, until she broke down crying, twice, and had to be plied each time with sugary sodas to be calmed down again.

She could reconstruct the whole thing in her head, even now. The long drive back home from the airport. Her family, so proud of her, blissfully unaware of how she'd been tearing herself up inside. Walking up and down the streets she knew like the back of her hand, building up her courage to cross that covered bridge, and walk up to that old house. Lydia was the one she had to make peace with first. Then everything would be fine.

And then, before she'd even made up her mind to do it, seeing them both, walking along like there wasn't shit bothering them, like everything in their lives was going more or less as expected, not paying a glance to either side, to the people who stared at them with that silent disapproval. They didn't _care_.

Like them, she'd stared. And what she saw, seemed wrong, if only because she knew what the rest of them didn't. He was _dead_. He was _old_. Patterns of green, stretched across grimy skin, hollowed pits, bruised where his eyes gazed out with a horrible, unnatural gleam. Walking, and murmuring, and _touching _her, while she leaned into his grasp, and glanced at him from time to time with unmasked affection. _Love_.

And then the poltergeist had noticed her watching, and nudged her long time friend, and Lydia had turned, and smiled, and waved, like not a goddamn thing had gone wrong between them…

Prudence had stared, something hot and wet and heavy in her throat, she would have sworn it was her heart, trying desperately to escape the sudden grip of fear and uncertainty that pounded through her, fingertips to toes. Her eyes had blurred with, maybe tears, maybe the threat of just passing out from the air she was currently sucking in too rapidly between her teeth, and she stared, unable to do a simple thing like lift her arm, and wave back.

The thing that went bump in the night. Humanity's fear of their own mortality. A physical manifestation, a reminder, that there were powers in the universe that could swallow them up without even trying. Standing right there, beside her best friend, like there was nothing wrong with it. And she swore she tasted blood.

And after a minute, with a shaking hand, she managed to lift her arm… Changing it, at the last minute, from a wave, to a simple adjusting of her glasses, as panicking, she turned, gripped with the sudden need to flee, and did her best not to simply _run_.

She didn't understand. She couldn't. It _scared_ her.

And once again, here she was, sitting in her room, now staring at the dark swirling grain of the wood, held in shadow by her own inclined head, as she hated herself, again, again. Alone.

Slowly she lifted her head, running her fingertips along sticky cheeks, and pushed herself away from the desk, with a grunt, and a lurch, rather ungracefully gaining her feet. Her back was sore, that was a given. Her eyes were tired. Her whole body demanded sleep… She didn't remember the last time she'd slept for more than a handful of hours, if that.

A glance in the mirror across the room confirmed it, even at that distance. She looked like hell. Her bright auburn hair snagged and sticking up randomly, her eyes hollow, burned out looking, bloodshot. Wearing the same outfit she had the day before. She didn't even know what time it was anymore. She'd probably missed a couple classes now. Her scholarship wouldn't last long with that kind of performance.

She needed to let it go. She needed to move on. Obviously there was no going back now…

A sudden sense of pressure built up in her eardrums, so quickly it was almost painful, and Prudence gave a little yelp, rubbing at the offending areas firmly as the pressure continued to build, until it was accompanied by a dull, solid throbbing across the front of her head, like her skull had suddenly been encased inside a steadily tightening iron band…

What followed was, at first, just too unexpected to really register, as she swore, in an instant, she felt something in the bones of her head give way, and with a sense, not of yielding, but irresistible force. She fought every inch of the way, as something reached up inside her chest, settled a sharp metal hook deeply into some vital organ there, and ripped her, violently, forward, and through…

Nothing. She was falling, her head spinning, too utterly dazed to be afraid, her body still wracked with a dozen different hormones and chemicals currently in the process of responding to her sudden pain, which was, oddly, no longer there. Nothing was there. Nothing. Not even herself.

For the length of a still heartbeat, she wasn't sure she'd ever existed…

And then with a solid, unyielding return to reality, something hard hit her approximately in the area of her seat, and her whole body snapped forward with the impact, as if she really had been falling, for only god knew how long.

Her neck felt like an overly stretched rubber band, she was acutely aware of every joint in her body, some she'd only known from textbooks before, as well as a few she was fairly certain she didn't have. And then, before she could really question whether or not she'd just suffered a premature and rather unexpected death, a low, familiar voice, cleared his throat in front of her, and noted, rather off-handedly, "Well hell, you sure as shit came kicking and screaming, didn't you, kiddo?"

Prudence opened her eyes, not quite sure when she'd closed them, and took in the side of the rather unwelcome sight of the grimy looking poltergeist, just across the table from her. The… table. All she could make of his sudden appearance was, briefly, the idea that yes, she really was dead.

And then she realized, with a return of sense, and an overwhelming panic, that no, this was much, much worse…

"Ain't nice," He growled aloud, almost pointedly, as he ground out a blackened, smoldering cigarette on the unpolished wood, "Being dragged where you don't wanna be, is it?" Like he was getting back at her for something, in particular, with that one. Unimpressed emerald eyes flicked up to take in her current state. "That being said, doll… You look like hell."

Prudence just stared, until he sneered, showing broken, jagged teeth, a rather unpleasant stain across them, in her opinion, and propped his own chair back, at an impossible angle, kicking dirty boots up onto the table's surface. "Cat got your tongue, kid?" He goaded, well aware she was practically pissing her pants, and to all appearances, rather enjoying it.

"W-where's Lydia?" The redhead finally managed quietly, taking belated note of the fact that they were, to all appearances, quite alone. In fact, beyond their little table, there didn't seem to be… anything. "Where am I?"

Beetlejuice dismissed this with a flick of his thick fingers. "I ain't even _getting_ into that last part yet… As for babes?" Again, that long, burning gaze, eating into hers. "'Fraid she couldn't make it today. Just gonna be you and me for this little one on one, Pru."

This said, he began fishing around in his pocket, rather absently, with two fingers, more like he was passing time, than really looking for something. Prudence sat very still, trying, for the life of her, to remind herself that this was just Lydia's inappropriate but harmless Mr. Beetleman… Neither of which seemed very true at the moment. This guy was _all_ seriousness.

"So it's like this, kid." He prompted finally, not quite looking at her any more, "Me and babes? We made up with that other pal of hers a couple hours ago, and I left them to you know… catch up. All that. Then…" A small, rather pleasant smirk, "I spent that couple of hours figuring how I was gonna make that whole betrayal shit up to you. You know, ratting on us to Liv, bailing out of my babes's life like she ain't shit…"

"That's not fair…" Prudence heard herself protesting, only to find her mouth suddenly gripped, without so much as a gesture from Lydia's husband, by a rather thick steel plate.

"Shaddup." Beetlejuice muttered belatedly, clearly not in the mood to listen to excuses. "I ain't done yet. You…" He pointed two fingers at her, squinting a little, to make it clear he was looking only at her when he said this, "You wait 'till _I'm _done talking, then _maybe _I'll listen to your shit. Got it?" Prudence could only stare, wide-eyed, unwilling to agree to anything at that point.

Grunting, the poltergeist pulled his boots slowly off the table, and without quite righting his chair, leaned forwards, flaring his hands briefly, before the long fingers came to settle across each other, as he considered her, no longer seeming amused.

"See," He said at last, rather like he was kind of pissed about what he was currently saying, "I thought about it a lot. Thought about dragging your ass through shit that would shatter that little white picket fence mind of yours for good, or just leaving you in some deep rotting bog, where you wouldn't do shit but sink for a couple centuries… Figured out ways to take you apart, put you back together all fucked up, basically make you pay any way I could for that pain you put in my Lyds' eyes." A small, pointed pause. "And I gotta tell you, the kid? I love her to goddamn pieces, but she don't really know shit of what I'm capable of, I get it in my head to do it."

"You, on the other hand?" He finally seemed to find what he was looking for in his pocket, and drew out, oddly enough, a single playing card, which he squinted at briefly, before turning his attention back to the girl before him. "I figure what you're thinking right now, is that I might be capable of goddamn _anything_. And what you can't figure out, for the pulse-beating, lung-breathing life of you, is whether or not _Lyds_ is right about me, and all that shit I just spouted was some piss poor attempt to scare you by bluffing, or whether _you're _right… And you're currently in some very deep shit."

A flick of his fingers, and a tall pile of red chips flew out of nowhere, and settled themselves into an uneven stack in front of him. "You play poker?" He asked, a bit out of the blue, as he pulled the remainder of the deck of cards out of his pocket. "Fun game… Lotta bluffing. Lotta getting your ass handed to you too. Personally," He grinned again, gesturing with hooked thumbs towards his chest. "I love it either fucking way. Life's too goddamn short not to take risks."

Without further explanation, Beetlejuice began flipping through his cards, the grin quickly vanishing from his face, as he frowned intently at the age-worn deck of cards, half the royal suite missing, and more. No way to win the game. He should know, he'd gone through this particular deck a hundred times, trying to find just one good strong hand left to it. Had no idea why he still kept it… Except that Lydia still had that ace from it, tucked into her drawer.

And that was more or less where he'd ended up every time he'd run this scenario with Pru through in his head… No way to win. For now he was settling for cheap scare tactics, half-truths, and his more or less overwhelming personality to make his points… But in the end, that was all he could do. Oh, he'd intended to do much more…

But it always came back to one thing. One risk he wasn't willing to take. He shuffled the cards again, cast a cold, angry glare towards the currently bound and gagged kid across from him, and turned back to his deck again. He dealt a hand, while she watched, and put the rest of the deck aside. Then he picked it up, and looked at it. And sure enough, it was shit.

"In the end, doll… I realized something." He muttered, not looking up from his crappy hand, before folding it back into the deck, and returning the whole mess to his pockets. "You ain't fucking worth it. I don't give a damn what kind of shit you pulled, in the end, you ain't worth it." He lifted his gaze, as serious as his wild green eyes had ever been, and smiled, flatly. "My babes means the world to me. I know you got no frigging clue what that means. But in this case, it means I ain't gonna do shit to you. Because she still figures you being _friends_." A short, derisive sound. "… And hell if I'm gonna tell her she's lost it."

The poker chips vanished, without him seeming to notice either way. "So here's the deal." His twitched his fingers, all that menace, all that built-up anger, suddenly vanishing, and leaving a guy she'd never thought to be afraid of, until she found out he was dead.

"You're gonna go back to that goddamn breathing world of yours, and you're gonna _call_ her, and you're gonna fix this shit. 'Cause I guaren-fucking-tee you… Ain't nothing in the world worth losing Lyds." A pause, as he drew a new cigarette out of his pocket, already, and gave her a meaningful look. "I know you ain't stupid. So stop being a goddamn moron, and say you're sorry. Babes don't stay mad at anyone. Take it from someone who knows."

Prudence just stared, caught off guard by his sudden drop of hostility… Completely unsure of his unexpected advice to just say she was sorry, and make things okay again, like they could ever go back to the way they were before… And then hit by the sudden, unwelcome realization of what losing her two best friends in the world would really mean to her, if she didn't fix this. And she started crying. Gagged, bound. Silently.

Beetlejuice looked up, sharply, almost instantly noticing, and something in his demeanor changed, again. He looked uncomfortable, sneering a little, curling his lip. But his eyes betrayed his sudden desire to be somewhere else. "Cut that the hell out…" He growled under his breath, suddenly doing his best not to quite look at the girl. "I told you, I ain't doing _shit_ to you. Just gonna send you back all nice, and… _CUT IT THE HELL OUT_!"

He shoved away from the table, yanked to his feet like a jumble of bones that had been pulled straight by a single string, and somehow never managed to look either ungainly or unbalanced while doing it. He was irritated. Set off his game. For the life of the hard-assed poltergeist, he'd never known what to do when a girl started crying. And he still gave just enough of a damn about _this_ girl, surprising him to no end when he realized it, to make it just that much worse.

Growling and muttering to himself, he banished her bindings with a dismissive flick of his index finger, pulling at his cold lips with the fingers of his opposite hand, thoroughly nonplussed when, given the opportunity, the kid didn't try to get away from him or anything, but just kept crying harder. "Aw, come on…" Tugging in exasperation at his wiry blonde knots now, he looking around futilely for some way to deal with this, finally just pulling a tattered, rather discolored hanky out of his pocket, and offering it to the girl, at as long a reach as he could manage. Well damn if this hadn't gone all to hell…

Prudence took the bit of yellowed white, wiping her eyes without so much as glancing at the cloth, and then blowing her nose in it, hard, making him chuckle involuntarily. Damn it, why did broads always do that?

At the sound of his low laugh, Prudence looked up in surprise, at the same time finally catching sight of the grungy bit of fabric she'd just been pressing to her face, and gave a strangled little moan of disgust, quickly ridding her hand of the stained, holey thing… Then just sat there, staring at it for a minute, before turning her attention back to the poltergeist. He seemed even more amused by her sudden surge of disgust, his palm half covering his twisted lips, eyes glinting as he watched her… In all, he suddenly really looked completely harmless. Being dead notwithstanding.

When he turned his back, shaking his head at some silent thought that he didn't seem willing to share, she saw it again, briefly, as she had the first time she'd met him, trailing along beside one of her two best friends. She saw why Lydia liked him, even if she couldn't put her finger on the exact reasoning.

And some big sense rose in her, resignation or relief she couldn't say which, as something settled in her head, finally.

Goddamnit, she was just going to have to get used to him, wasn't she?

Before she could say as much though, she was spinning through nothing again, this time sans pain, as if the guy had suddenly decided there was something else he'd rather be doing, and wasn't big on explaining himself. Which was probably pretty much right on the mark.

Managing to pull herself a bit unsteadily to her feet as she reached reality again- she wasn't sure herself how she'd ended up sprawled rather ungracefully across her couch, hanging with her face a good inch from the floor- Prudence took in her surroundings, a little unwilling, still, to believe that she really had gotten off that easily. He'd been talking about taking her apart for god's sake… Literally!

But now there was no sign of him. Taking a slow, shaky breath, she looked around one last time to be sure, before her gaze settled on the rather simple affair of a phone, perched beckoningly on her side table.

When she picked it up, she wondered for one brief, wild moment at her sanity. The cool white plastic in her hands did nothing to convince her she was really going to do this… But the next thing she knew, the dull tones of the numbers being punched in made her wince in the otherwise stillness, and then the phone was ringing, and her mouth was dry, and…

_Click_. "Hello? May- may I speak to Lydia?"

----------------

He didn't go straight home. He wasn't sure himself if he'd fixed things, or fucked them up more, and was still more than a little unsettled over the idea of giving a flying damn about any chick other than his babes, even the girl's best friends. It felt kind of like he was losing his game. Letting people get to him. When the hell had that started happening?

When he finally did head back to the tall, picturesque dollhouse on the hill, he spent a long time looking up at it, feeling, briefly, trapped by the limitations it set. Like he had some kind of goddamn haunting perimeter, or something. Sure, it was a nice place to kick up his boots from time to time… But the honest to god truth, was that Winter River was about two hitchhike's worth from nowhere.

And it kind of irked him, for reasons all his own, when he realized that it was starting to feel like more than a just stop-off between going off other places to have fun. Like… He was getting attached to the place. And it wasn't even just Lyds anymore.

Scowling, and offering muttered curses in a language not many dead knew, and no living would, he shoved the back door open with little fanfare, and greeted Olivia's attempts at decorating within with a little sneer. Least she was better than that Delia bitch… Not like he was saying the place felt homey, or nuthin.

Adam chose that moment to walk into the room, carefully scrutinizing the top of a neatly polished stack of black and white photographs, and casting him, when he noticed the poltergeist, barely a glance. "There you are… Have you seen Lydia? She should have been home an hour ago." Beetlejuice gave him a nonplussed little look, sideways, wondering if the guy was actually getting used to having his worst nightmare around.

"She told me, she had some new pictures for me to look at…" Adam went on, as he just continued on his way to his hobby table, still staring at the pictures in one hand, while he used his ghostly energy to open a small can of model pain, and lift a small array of paintbrushes, cycling through to decide which one was best for the current situation.

"'Spose babes don't answer to no one but herself, these days." Beetlejuice muttered, intrigued, despite himself, at the sudden utter lack of hostility, following the girl's little talk with the guy. "Whatcha got there, poindexter?"

Adam cast him a brief, only mildly annoyed glance, before choosing one of the photos, hanging it from a set of wires he'd suspended over his current little project, and licked his lips, turning back to whatever it was that had him so distracted, hands hanging, rather undirected at the moment, over a pile of newsprint and cardboard. "I was looking at some of these pictures Lydia took again, and I was really noticing the architecture. It's very… otherworldly. You know?"

"No shit." The poltergeist agreed, coming up behind the man anyway, curious about just what in particular had caught the other ghost's attention. "So the fuck what?"

"Well…" For a moment, Adam seemed caught off step of how to answer, before furrowing his brow, shaking his head, and noting, which an off-hand gesture to his favorite long time hobby standing off to the side, "It isn't as if they've really changed much in Winter River over the past couple of years. It's pretty much just been maintenance, or adding a new color to an existing roof. I thought this would give me something else to do in the meantime."

Beetlejuice's eyebrows twisted up in mild surprise, but before he could comment on what exactly the guy thought he was gonna accomplish from pictures taken randomly across the world of the dead, a happy, familiar little sound made him turn quickly, and crack a pleased grin, as Lydia propelled herself down the stairs, seemingly from nowhere, and into his arms. "Pruuuu-dence…!" She cried out, a distinct sense of relief in her voice, before she burrowed her soft face into the poltergeist's grimy neck, laughing softly. "I don't what the fuck you did, Beej, but thank you _so _much…!"

Not expecting to be thanked, or even to avoid physical violence after what he'd just pulled, Beetlejuice was ever one to take advantage of the situation, wrapping one firm arm around her back, pulling her face up with a tug of her hair, and planting a very thorough kiss on the surprised girl's mouth… Her lips, warm, soft, unprotesting beneath his greedy claim…

Before she laughed, pushing him away with a rebuking little smirk, and turning sideways as she slipped out of his arms, bumping his leg affectionately with her hip as she squeezed away. "Horn-dog." She teased him, taking the game one step further, and after making sure that Adam was, in fact, pointedly ignoring them, sneaking a discreet little squeeze of her own that left the poltergeist cackling at her 'daring.'

"So when did you get home?" Adam pressed, when it seemed he felt safe to look up at the two again. "I didn't hear you come in." There may have been a mildly accusing intonation to the words, Beetlejuice rarely bothered worrying about that subtlety shit himself.

But Lydia just met her foster father's gaze without apology, and smiled, leaving no question that wherever she'd been, she'd been out making trouble… as usual. Whether it was actually true or not. "I got home through the mirror about an hour ago." She assured him, deep brown eyes still dancing with secrets, more or less as a rule these days, even as she was perfectly honest with him. "I had to stop by the roadhouse to get some measurements after I left Bertha at the…"

"Hold on…" Adam interjected, now a bit more apparently curious, as he turned his attention completely from the task at hand. "Hold on, did you say through the _mirror_?"

Lydia, for her part, just stared, a bit taken aback by Adam's lack of foreknowledge of this common route of transportation to and from the neitherworld. As if she'd honestly _meant_ to tell him… And had no idea how it could have slipped her mind for so long. "Um… yeah. I had to use mom's mirror though, since Beej broke mine…Kinda figured walking through a spider web of broken glass to be a bad idea…"

"Hmm." Adam gave her a disapproving, rather exasperated look… Yet still somehow managed to smile, as if this whole thing were just some inside joke now, and that was all there was to be had for it. "So is there any chance that I'll learn even half of what you already know about this," He made a helpless gesture with his hand, "_Neitherworld_, before crossing over there myself?"

"Probably not." Lydia assured him, not missing a beat… Probably only Beetlejuice himself noticing how she didn't seem _quite_ herself as she said it, though he couldn't have put his thumb on just what was off about the girl. "I wouldn't worry about it… The neitherworld's not going anywhere any time soon."

The thing was, he figured that he knew what was bugging her, but for once, had the sense to keep his trap shut. If the Maitland idiot just wanted to figure that _everyone_ went to the neitherworld, that was his business… Beetlejuice didn't see causing trouble over what didn't mean shit to him anyway, except through his girl. Never mind that it was still a good fucking hundred years away… A long time even for _him_.

He did however, know when it was a good time to change the subject. "So, yuppie, you ask babes what she thought of it, before nicking her pictures like that?" He asked with an utterly false nonchalance, hoping to get his babes's mind off what neither one of them could change, anyway. "'Cause I gotta tell you… Kid has one mean temper when you filch her stuff. Take it from me."

Before Adam could look surprised, contrite, anything though, Lydia snagged one of the pictures off the wire, her face lighting up as she took in the sight of the rather dilapidated, twisted rows of columns, before the heavy brick building behind, draped in grey satin curtains. "Ooh… We haven't been there in a while…"

Beetlejuice sneered, privately amused over how excited she could get over an old tomb with half-rotten old archives. "Goddamn it, kid. You've think they didn't have libraries in this living world of yours! Come on, anything's more interesting than…" His eyes scanned the photo print currently suspended before them. "Shit, Maitland! Leave it to you to grab all the boring crap!"

Lydia's fingertips traced lightly through the air before the various pictures. "That's the New Sleazeland Capitol Building! And the My-And-Me Neitherworld Bank! The Panorama Canal Camera Underworld! Ooh! Look, Beej! Remember that?" She pointed to a ritzy looking building shaped from a solid piece of black glass, left after some forgotten incident with a magma pocket, millennia before his own time. "The Scrying Hall!"

The poltergeist cackled softly under his breath… Yeah, he remembered that one. They'd made it halfway through that goddamn museum she wanted to see so badly, before someone recognized him and called the cops on his ass. After which, they'd spent the next three hours on the run, Lydia to all appearances having a ball with _that _too… Which was a hell of a lot more fun, in his opinion, than slinking around some museum anyway!

Not that it wouldn't have been even more fun if they hadn't gotten their asses caught in the end. Juno was, after all, the buzz kill to end all buzz kills… But that shit was bound to catch up with him sooner or later, anyway. At least Lyds had fun.

"Nah…" He drawled slowly, aloud. "Don't remember, Lyds. Must have been goddamn boring." Lydia smirked, never put off by his games, and leaned over Adam's workbench, her eyes taking in, to all appearances, the memories of the places, and not the pictures themselves.

"Huh." She murmured at last, leaning back again, and rocked on the balls of her feet, as she seemed to drift right from one thought to another, without really taking a pause. "So I was thinking, when we get the roadhouse all set up, do you think Bertha and Pru could visit? I'd like to freak them out a little… You know, not literally."

"Why the fuck not?" He growled, hoping he would get to terrify the two at least a little, and figuring since he'd already drawn the red headed sprite through to Nowhere, breaking a few more rules probably wouldn't be much skin off his ass… Provided they didn't get caught. "Sure, babes." He added, a bit more flippantly, "Bring the whole goddamn bunch. We'll throw a fucking party." He would have sounded like he was being sarcastic as hell, if he wasn't grinning himself silly at the chance to raise a little real trouble without getting reamed out for it. His roadhouse, his rules, right?

_Their_ roadhouse. Even better.

And Lydia, well, she had to know what he was up to, but she looked pleased as punch over it too, a slow smile spreading across her soft features, dark eyes gleaming with the possibilities. "And Ginger, and Jacques, and my parents…!"

"Not to spoil your fun, Lydia, but wouldn't we have to get Juno's okay for something like that?" Adam interrupted, doing, as usual, his responsible, parental thing. Lydia and Beetlejuice just paused, turned, looked at him a bit incredulously, then turned back to each other, and went right back to their planning, like his words of advice didn't even register.

"-gotta have some neitherworld booze…" Beetlejuice was saying, showing off every crooked tooth in anticipation. He knew damn well how far he could push things without pissing his girl off… But hell, a party was as good a time as any to test those boundaries a little, right? "Finish the damn stable in the living room, show off that racehorse of yours…"

Adam frowned, looked from one to the other, and wondered, again, how he could have possibly missed the poltergeist's growing influence on his daughter over the years. Just one of those questions that he supposed he'd never figure out completely- Like how in the hell he'd ever ended up with _Beetlejuice_ as a son-in-law…

Or how in the _living _world that was starting to seem _normal?_

_----------------_


	7. Gone Astray

If the world was the way I wanted it, not only would the _idea_ for Beetlejuice be mine, but so would Beetlejuice himself. That is, alas, not the case. I don't own any of it, not Lyds, not Beej, not the Neitherworld... Basically not anything in these pages that can otherwise be accredited to Tim Burton, and/or the Geffen Film Company. Now, there is some stuff in here that is mine... But you? You're reading this for _Beetlejuice_... And Lydia. And them together. Am I right?

----------------

There, see, that one didn't take half the time to put up. Granted, I'm not sure still that it flows with the story right, but it did flow from like fingers like, um, water. That makes no sense, but well, I couldn't say blood, could I? I guess I'm not responding to reviews, sorry, I don't know what's come over me. I hope I'll get to it. Meanwhile, they still mean a ton to me, so I guess I'm a hypocrite, especially since, at the moment, I'm not reading anyone else's work either. I'm still working through my slump, I guess... Hope this whets your appetite, and keeps your teeth sharp... Eh, heh heh, so to speak.

----------------

Their first real mistake wasn't in crashing in her bed for the night, parents be damned, or even engaging in a little frisky play beforehand. It wasn't in the way she'd lain in his arms for well over an hour after he'd fallen asleep, using small swayings of her new powers to draw the smooth black marker in ever more intricate whorls across her ceiling, ever closer to completing her complex 'etching.' Not quite sure herself if it was more than ink on white paint, or even something she'd come to regret- Her innate powers being so much less predictable than her newer, ghostly powers-

It was in letting her guard down, even for an instant. Letting herself think that because things had been turning her way this far, they were just going to get easier from here. And most of all, it was in forgetting that there was more to her current family drama than just earning everyone's approval.

She was just standing at the mirror to the bathroom, still cast over with steam from her early morning shower, when the rest of the house should have still been quiet. Beetlejuice, undoubtedly still snoring away beneath her thick comforter, ass bare to the world, if anyone was naïve enough at this point to come in without knocking, his guttural, newfound skill of snoring rumbling bizarrely to anyone within earshot.

The Maitlands as well, not yet come down from the attic. Her mother yet to come out of her room. Her father- Well, she tried not to wonder where he was at the moment. It had been almost a week since she'd seen him now. And everything else in her life was going too well, to let herself dwell on what might still be, admittedly, a bit up in the air.

But as Beetlejuice had muttered to her once, in a moment of annoyance… '_Goddamn breathers never can leave well enough alone, babes._'

The sound of a slamming door echoed through the house, come, not from any of the bedrooms, but the front room, and accompanied by a roar of frustration, defiance, and, to her ear, the seeking of a sympathetic ear. "God _damn _him!" Her mother cried, even as Lydia yanked herself out of the bathroom, moving quickly to the banister, and looking down in puzzlement, to see her mother, not only in this state, but anywhere but her own room, not ten minutes after dawn.

A mirrored shout, and a grumble, came from Lydia's room, as Beetlejuice roused himself long enough to curse roundly at the source of the disturbance, not really even pulling himself fully to consciousness before falling back to sleep.

With no help coming from that quarter, Lydia approached the stairs cautiously, never sure what to expect from the older woman, even as both Barbara and Adam swung past her, with quick glances to Lydia herself, to make certain that whatever was wrong wasn't affecting the both of them.

"Olivia!" Adam, bristling oddly, tugging at his shirtsleeves, and casting glances here and there through his light glasses, before settling on her again. "You were gone all night! We've been worried sick!"

Gone all night? This was news to Lydia, who took the stairs slowly, trying not to draw attention to herself, or away from whatever was happening, as she turned this idea over in her mind. Where the hell had her mother been, if she wasn't here? She'd just assumed the woman had gone to bed early… She'd been doing that ever since Lydia's marriage to Beetlejuice, and even more since her father had left.

A quick glance towards her own doorway told her that Beetlejuice, for better or for worse, was staying entrenched firmly in the thick covers, oblivious to whatever went on below. Probably for the better… She was the distinct sense that, whatever was going on, didn't need his hand in it.

She'd missed what the three 'adults' were saying while she was distracted, but as she turned back, she was greeted by the sight of her mother held firmly in Barbara's arm, cradled against the ghost woman's equally small frame, as if she expected the woman to easily be strong enough for both of them, whatever was wrong. Adam was quiet, eyes downcast in thought or anger, a curved finger held tightly to his lips, as if to prevent himself from saying what he wanted to say, and knew damn well he shouldn't.

Time to throw her own lot in. "What's going on?" Lydia broached slowly, quickly drawing the eyes of both Adam and Barb, though her mother, par for the course, was too drowned in her own self-pity to bother paying her daughter so much as a glance. "Where was mom?"

Barbara, without a word, looked to Adam, clearly leaving him to field this question, before turning back to her mother, and, with a gentle urging, moved her towards the kitchen, and promises of sweet teas. Her foster father clearly found himself to be in anything but an enviable position, watching the two women go, and then, even when they were gone, pointedly not quite looking back at Lydia. "I think you should sit down." He suggested tersely, following his own advice as he gave it, and seeking the large, tweed loveseat to claim for himself.

Lydia gave him a measured look, turned her eyes towards where her mother and foster mother had gone, and groaned inwardly. So, what, her dad, right? God damn it. Everyone there knew they were going to get a divorce, she didn't see what was taking the two of them so long to figure it out. That wasn't to say she didn't hate the idea, but Lydia was neither a fool, nor willfully blinding herself to the fact that things were just not going to go back to the way they'd been before. That really only left the one option then… And the sooner they got on with it, the sooner they could pull their feet up under them again, and figure out what normal was supposed to be now.

Running her fingers through her unkempt black strands, Lydia pressed her lips into a thin line, and resigned herself to playing the part of a clueless, sympathetic ear, when it was obvious what was going on.

That was why the first words Adam offered, surprised her. "Lydia… Your mother lost her job."

At first the words wouldn't seem to register, since her mom losing her job was pretty much the last thing that had been written on her long list of what could go wrong in their lives now… She knew the economy wasn't that strong these days, but she'd figured the worst of it for pretty much passing over their little town. Her mind quickly starting spinning though, trying to figure out what this meant. A father no longer living with them. Two parents unable to leave the house. Her mom, no longer working.

Shit.

But that didn't explain where her mother had been the night before. "So what, she was out drinking?" Lydia muttered bitterly, not expecting her suggestion to be taken seriously, much less confirmed by the way Adam, once again, quickly averted his eyes.

And that, her mother drinking, that was almost laughable. She knew damn well that the woman couldn't hold her liquor worth shit… She could get soused on a goddamn strawberry daiquiri! The mere fact that she'd been out all night drinking, and hadn't come home with alcohol poisoning, or _dead _for that matter, was only a little less than astonishing in and of itself!

For that matter, it really didn't explain who her mother had been damning when she'd barged into the house either. Of course, that could just be Beetlejuice, for the hell of it, for all she knew…

"Okay," Lydia agreed, having taken a full minute to process this, before turning to the next matter at hand. "And…?"

Adam blinked, and turned to her with an incredulous, disapproving look to his stern features. "That's nothing to be dismissed, young lady!" He informed her in his scolding, fatherly way, forgetting for one brief moment that she wasn't just some kid who didn't realize the full impact of what he was saying. "You know that Barbara and I can't work, and with your father gone, your mother was the only one supporting this family…"

Admittedly, he lost a little of his steam as his gradually took in the tolerant, annoyed look on Lydia's features, telling him in no uncertain terms that, no, _he_ was the one missing something here. "Okay." She said again, with just slightly pressed patience, "Very bad. We're screwed. I get it. Now who the hell was she yelling about when she stormed in here two minutes ago?"

For a moment Adam didn't answer- to be perfectly honest, he didn't really look like he was quite sure what she was talking about. Either he'd missed that little bit of the show, or in his worry over the rest of it, and relief on seeing Olivia safe, he'd simply forgotten about it. "Oh." He said at last, intelligently, before pulling himself to his feet, with an upsweep of his eyebrows, in thought. "I suppose we should go find out then."

"Yeah, okay…" Lydia let him lead the way, ever willing to let someone else provide a buffer between her and her mother, and cast one last lingering glance towards the stairwell before following. She'd probably regret not getting her husband to join in on this little family affair… God only knew he made pretty much anything a little more bearable, but she had a feeling that right now, adding Beetlejuice to the equation was the last thing her mother needed.

She fully expected a storm when she entered the kitchen, but to her surprise, her mother was already calmer, dabbing at her eyes with a folded up paper towel, grim, but no longer hysterical. Barbara, on the other hand, looked positively gray.

"And what'd we miss in here?" Lydia muttered to herself, carefully positioning herself at the far corner of the kitchen, with Adam still well between her and her mother, should the woman suddenly decide to go ballistic. She didn't actually say anything to her parents though, she figured that for now, the best plan of attack was simply to watch, and wait.

"Barbara?" The ghost woman's husband approached her quickly, putting out an arm to support her, and effectively ruining Lydia's plan of keeping him between her and her mother. "What's wrong, honey?"

Lydia's foster mother made a small, useless gesture with her hand, before accepting her husband's embrace, leaning into his arms, and giving one, solid shudder. "Damn him, Adam." Was all she said, an eerie echoing of her mother's earlier sentiment.

"Who is it, Barb?" Adam pressed, squeezing her, protectively, before even knowing what it was he was supposed to protect her from. "What happened?"

It wasn't Barbara however, who answered. "It's Edmond." Olivia informed them with a tight grimace, almost flippantly now, as her mood shifted, again, suggesting that whatever she'd drunk the night before, it hadn't actually completely worn off yet. "He wants a divorce. He's _leaving_. Off to god knows where." A small, pained hiccup, from crying or drink, Lydia couldn't tell, and didn't really care, over the massive sinking in her own chest. "What does he care if I'm out of work? He asked if we needed money… I told _him_ where he could put his damn money!"

And that was her mother for her, who cared if their bills went unpaid after all, as long as her pride was intact, and she got in the last word. Lydia felt a sudden need to be elsewhere, somewhere tucked into her own husband's side for example, listening to his gravelly breathing, and thinking of nothing at all… But this was probably when she was supposed to be supportive of her family, and stand with them, and try to muddle through this whole mess together…

Well, fuck that. She'd been through enough in her young life to know that there was certainly a time and a place to still act her age, and for god's sake, she was only seventeen… No way in hell she was going to stand there and take sides between her mother and father, not even knowing what happened. At the moment, as sick as she was over Olivia's threat that her father was _leaving_… A big part of her would much rather blame the older woman. Hell, most of the time she didn't even _like_ her mother…

Drawing her hand with a brief, frustrated gesture across her forehead, Lydia took the better part of discretion, and retreated. It felt a little bit like sleepwalking as she moved through her own house, a place she'd lived since the day she was born, somehow now both distant and alien from her. Like, everything here was wrong now. She didn't want to be here anymore.

She didn't remember ascending the stairs, but a moment or an eternity later, she stood in her doorway, looking at the sleeping lump of her husband on the bed. Closing the door, silently, she moved barefoot across the old shag carpeting, and settled herself slowly onto the mattress beside him. Ever gently, ever quietly, she laid her small frame down, tucked amongst the rumpled sheets, and wriggled back carefully, pulling his arms around herself, until she was firmly in the poltergeist's strong embrace.

And then she just lay there for a while, blinking back tears, ignoring the world beyond the strong half-dead man's reach. Sometimes, with everything that had happened, especially in the past few months, it was hard to remember that she really was still just a kid…

But for god's sake, she was just a _kid_…

It was only the soft sounds of her crying, where the noise this far had failed, that finally woke Beetlejuice up. He of course, had no clue what was wrong, only that his babes was, for reasons unknown, currently falling apart quietly in his embrace. He peered at her through one eye, briefly considered pretending he was still asleep, and letting her cry herself out… Then growled under his breath sleepily, rose on one arm a little, and peered down at her with a frown. "Well, what the _fuck_, babes?"

This was, apparently, exactly the wrong reaction, because at his words, Lydia moaned, turned into his naked chest, and started sobbing full out, with small, heartbreaking little moans that made his skin crawl, and left him feeling pretty much like someone was currently grinding his guts beneath their heel. "Oh, hell…" He grabbed her against him more firmly, tucking his chin into her warm, tousled hair, and wondered what the hell he'd missed this time. "Can't a guy even fucking sleep without…?"

He trailed off here, suddenly deciding that if the girl was already bawling, he didn't want to give her the impression that he was pissed off at her or something too. "Come on, Lyds…" His words dropped to a murmur, and he gave her arm a little, reassuring squeeze, doing his painful best to offer her a grin. "You're killing me here! You know I can't stand seeing a chick cry…"

Lydia hiccupped, wiped her eyes on absently on his forearm, and wiped her nose on the sheets, offering a little levity into the situation, even if it was only for a second. Shit if she couldn't look cute with smeared mascara, now all down his arm, and pouty lips, and big, watery eyes. "They're all fucking assholes…" She muttered, before diving back into his chest, now no longer crying uncontrollably… Though somehow, her quiet, beaten stillness was even worse.

So it was pretty much like he had figured, and the in-laws had fucked up again. Goddamn breathing idiots. Making his babes cry. Couldn't be her friends, her just patching things up with them, so definitely the in-laws. Probably not the Maitlands either. They at least seemed to have some kind of clue where the girl was concerned. And that old man of hers wasn't really around enough to be causing trouble… Was that it?

Nah. He'd lay dollars to dimes it was the bitch. Again. "You know, I _really _don't like that old lady of yours, Lyds." He informed her with a mutter, clearly annoyed.

Lydia made a small, noncommittal sound. "I'm not so fond of her right now myself, Beej." She mumbled under her breath, drawing back a moment later with a sigh, and drawing away the long inky strands from her tear-sticky face. "How the fuck is it you're the _normal_ one in my life, Beetlejuice?"

"Hey, oh, hold on…" He frowned, and pointed at her nose with mock sternness. "No using the 'n' word around me, kiddo. 'Cause I'll tell you what I fucking _ain't_, and that's normal!"

As usual, his little scheme to get under the girl's skin worked- in a good way. She giggled, and he grinned in relief, laying back again, wondering if it would really be that easy. Nah, 'course not. He still had to fuck that broad up for making his babes cry…

The girl moved up a little, until she half lay across his chest, kissing the skin there lightly, and sending little chills from the contact up and down the poltergeist's spine. Hell, she had no idea how she affected him, did she…? "So how come, then," She asked softly, her voice just a little, affectionate whisper, "You're the only one who makes sense to me?"

He turned this over in his head, but really, he already knew what she wanted to hear… And hell, it was true enough, wasn't it? "'Cause you ain't normal either, Lyds." He informed her gruffly, giving her side a little pinch, and making her, against all odds, giggle. Encouraged, he went on, gathering strength now. "Hell, you think I'd be hanging around this long with a chick that was normal? Hell no! Normal's fucking boring! You were never nor-!"

At this point he had to cut off, because she was kissing him soundly… And as usual, the poltergeist found no reason to complain under her tender ministrations.

When the kiss ended though, he proved he was not done, lifting one eyebrow, looking at her pointedly, and adding, in no uncertain terms, "And what? You think a normal broad could even _begin_ to kiss like that? 'Cause I gotta tell you babes… You give me a chance, and I'll tell you a few other things that a normal broad can't do half as well as you do…"

She blushed, which was a rare and wonderful treat in itself, and he savored the gentle spread of warm colors across her cheeks. His babes, who was never shy around _him_, certainly, showing him that his latest comment had touched her even more closely than usual.

"No one else gets me but you…" She murmured, rather enigmatically, moving a little further over his chest, sliding her fingers across his cool, living flesh, and sighing as his answering touch caressed her, so gently, across the bare place her shirt didn't cover, at the base of her spine. "Beetlejuice…"

"Lydia…!" The door to their bedroom chose that moment to swing open, for once without benefit of knocking, and so her foster father was treated to the sight of them quite snug in each other's company, something he clearly did not expect. The blood would have drained from his face, if he had any. And then, to make matters worse, his wife appeared behind him only a second later, clearly just as surprised as he was.

The girl just sort of sat there, her husband's hand halfway up her shirt, herself halfway draped over his rather obviously bare body… While he just sort of tipped his head backwards to take in the sight of the two of them, grunted in annoyance as his wheels spun quickly, well aware that this was the last thing his babes wanted her folks walking in on, and somehow, still, all he managed was a gruff, "Can't you see we're fucking busy here?"

Adam's lips thinned, so much that they almost vanished, his eyes pointedly averting. "This is hardly the time or place…" He muttered, a bit hoarsely, before shaking his head, taking Barbara pointedly by the arm, and pulling her away from the door… Leaving it, rather inconveniently, open.

For about an instant, Lydia just stared, finally making a little sound of outrage, and pulling from her husband's grasp, tugging her shirt back into place even as she moved across the room with long, angry strides. "I don't know what you think you walked in on…!" She roared, largely after the Maitland man, as she quickly left Beetlejuice behind.

"I think I _know _what we walked in on!" Adam declared back, just as furiously, as if her seeking comfort in Beetlejuice's embrace were somehow unforgivable, given the circumstances. "Your mother just lost her job, your father just left, god only knows what's going to happen now, and you're in there with _him_…!"

"He was making me _feel_ better!" Lydia screamed, finally reaching the end of her rope, and just standing in place, curling her toes into the hard wood, hands clenched into fists, just desperately angry.

"We could _see_ that!" Adam yelled right back, not turning around to face her, as he and Barbara just kept right on going. Just unable to cope with the image now burned behind his eyes, of Lydia, and… _him_. "I don't want to talk about it!" So much for starting to seem _normal_… Talk about denial! No way that could seem normal to anybody!

"Hell buddy…" Beetlejuice chose that moment to step directly from the wall before him, snagging him, hard, by the arm. "Babes wants to talk about it, you're gonna talk about it fucking _now_…" He was tired of all the bullshit, them treating Lydia bad because, damn it, she decided to give a shit about _him_. And he was about fed up with it.

"Beetlejuice!" Adam shouted, Adam who almost never raised his voice, clearly intending to make the poltergeist fall back under the long-held threat of his name…

But Beetlejuice just grinned, somehow a bit more dangerously than usual, like his already crooked teeth had somehow become even sharper and more menacing, and his eyes... "That's right, buddy," He hissed, the sound a sort of guttural one in his throat, "Baaad fucking time to forget it."

The standoff continued about thirty seconds more, Adam Maitland somehow, facing off with the menace that had existed right under his nose for so long unseen, wilting a little, forced to confront him face to face. "That's real good," Beetlejuice growled finally, releasing his arm with one final, violent yank, "You're getting a good look at me now. So stop fucking trying to pretend that none of this happened… 'Cause no matter what kind of shit you pull, I ain't going nowhere without _my wife_!"

_Wife_. The word seemed to affect the man like a physical blow, when just the day before, he'd been trying so hard to play nice. As if, for the life of him, he'd been trying desperately to avoid that one, inevitable truth. Lydia was _married_ to him. With everything that entailed… This wasn't just a phase he had to put up with until she grew out of it. This was _forever_.

"Oh my god." Barbara said it before he did, just sort of collapsing in a slow motion kind of way against the wall. Despite all appearances, they hadn't come to peace with it. And from the way that Adam just stood there, eyes slightly glazed, jaw muscles twitching furiously, it wasn't something either one of them were half as ready to accept as they'd thought they were.

And Lydia? She stood there watching the whole time, a mad little half smile on her face, blinking back tears, before she gave a deep, massive sigh, and turned away from both, walking pointedly back to her room. She'd thought it was getting better. She'd thought it was almost fixed. But apparently she was just as much in denial as the Maitlands were. What next, Bertha, and Pru, again?

An unstable little laugh fell from her lips, and she cast a wild glance around her room, back in its familiar grasp again, and found herself making a face of disgust. What was she thinking? How had she ever thought she could belong here, much less now, with a half dead husband and… whatever it was she was now?

Her gaze fell on the spider webbed mirror, and for a moment, softened, at that brief memory of her husband's window into her world for so long, until he destroyed it, and now, didn't need it any more.

"Damn it." Just a whisper, a breath, a sound of defeat. "I don't need any of them."

Beetlejuice, coming up behind her, heard the little half hearted vow, but figured it was probably best to pretend he didn't, in case she wanted to take it back later. "I'm sick of these goddamn losers," He said to her loudly instead, giving her warning as he moved up behind her, taking her into a firm, unyielding embrace… He had no intentions of letting go just then… "Let's get the hell out of here, babes."

Lifting her head, Lydia took in the reassuring sight of her husband's protective anger over her, closed her eyes, and managed a slightly more genuine smile. "God, _yes_…" She whispered, and then, before he could pull them through, decided that she might as well show him her new trick now… "Home, home, _home_…"

And they dropped briefly, clearly surprising the man, whose grip tightened on her quickly, as he took in their new surroundings… Shadowed pink and black spun sugar crystals, violet ribbons of light, and an endless sky of sparks, just out of reach… This was _her_ juice, he realized with a little start, tightening his grip on her again, _completely _hers. It tasted like cherry brandy, and fresh rain…

_Home…_ She whispered again, somehow in his mind and her own, though this time it wasn't a command, just a silent pleading for something that felt right, and the way it was supposed to. _Please god, home?_

And then they landed, lightly as a feather as he caught her weight, and set her down gently, casting a look around the savage features of the room they'd appeared in, at her desperate plea to go _home…_ And with a flick of his smallest finger, started a roaring fire in the fireplace, making the girl jerk her head up sharply, and consider the flames in surprise, before lifting her head to consider Beetlejuice standing just over her, cast in the shadow and dancing light.

"Well, where the hell did you expect us to end up?" He asked gruffly, his throat oddly thick as he managed a half assed smile at the girl, who just turned in his arms, and lay her head against his chest, suddenly, oddly content with this.

"Home, huh?" She whispered softly, her breath still a bit shaky. "Okay. Yeah. I can live with that…"

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	8. And Gone Astray Again

If the world was the way I wanted it, not only would the _idea_ for Beetlejuice be mine, but so would Beetlejuice himself. That is, alas, not the case. I don't own any of it, not Lyds, not Beej, not the Neitherworld... Basically not anything in these pages that can otherwise be accredited to Tim Burton, and/or the Geffen Film Company. Now, there is some stuff in here that is mine... But you? You're reading this for _Beetlejuice_... And Lydia. And them together. Am I right?

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Short chapter... But you didn't really think I was _done_ after the last one, did you? Oh no, I have a pattern to maintain, at least for now... Seven chapters just won't do!

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It had been days since she'd come to the Neitherworld, and she hadn't once thought about going back. Not once. She refused to… And why would she? The Neitherworld made a hell of a lot more sense to her, always had. It was the living world that was nuts. People just couldn't let each other be happy.

The Neitherworld… The Neitherworld was _home_. She'd proven that. Right?

Everywhere, the sounds and sights of the Street Fair and Scare surrounded her, cheering, laughing, screams of fear and squeals of delight. Confetti poppers went off on all sides, strewing the air with gaudy bits of orange, purple, and black… Catching on the wind, falling in her hair, threatening at any moment to blind her, as she blinked them away. Heavy, rhythmic Neitherworld drums pulsed through the air electrically, making her skin tingle, and her hair stand on end.

_Boom, boom, boom. Buh-boom, buh-boom, buh-boom._ Like a dead, still pounding heart. _Buh-boom, buh-boom, buh-boom._

Masses of ghostly energy, moving around her. She felt like she'd never been aware of so many other ghostly presences. Usually only Beej was strong enough for her to feel crawl across her skin, and through her veins. Today she felt like she could feel every one. Jostling for position. Shouting in frustration or satisfaction. Hands against her bare arms, feet trodding on her light shoes, physical shoves against her back as she didn't move as quickly as they liked.

Always Beetlejuice there, with a threatening sneer, to make them back down. His arm, thrown possessively, protectively, around her shoulder. The pulse of him, somehow beating through every inch of her body, like it was inside her. Stronger than she could feel her own.

_Boom, boom, boom. Buh-boom, buh-boom, buh-boom._

Tripping, caught by his strong arms, swept up on his shoulder, with one easy movement. He was _strong_. Like he could take care of anything. Like he could deal with whatever came. Strong, disguised by his slouching stance, his swelled gut, his careless grin. He was _strong_.

And she was close enough to the sparks zooming through the air now, like something alive, to reach up and touch them. She didn't think before she did, they were so much like those lights she saw when they were halfway between worlds… But these ones singed her fingers. She yanked her hand back, without so much as a sound of protest. Beetlejuice didn't notice. She pressed them against her lips.

They tasted like ash.

Gradually the excitement of the parade died down, and like someone emerging from a trance, Lydia turned her eyes away from the thundering grotesques that had filled the street, stone and paper mache and dead flowers and blackened steel, and breathed, for what felt like the first time since the whole thing had started. Lowering her camera. It was beautiful. It was overwhelming. It was exhausting.

"What'd ya think of that, babes?" Beetlejuice smirked, finally swinging her down from his shoulder, to clasp her tightly against his pale, cold body… And she could feel it again. His heart. _Buh-boom, buh-boom, buh-boom… _"Better than they got any-fucking-where else, I guarantee it! And every week they do this shit… Knew I had to get you down here sooner or later…"

At this point he sort of trailed off, watching her with a little frown. When she tried to meet his gaze, he quickly looked away, slicking his wild hair back. "Kind of big shit around here. Supposed to be honoring the Royals or something, didn't think you'd care about that part of it though… Been a long day, if you wanna get back…" He seemed, frustrated. Disappointed. Like something in his plans had gone wrong, and she didn't even know what.

"We can hang around for a while." She denied, drawing him slowly away from the litter-lined street, and towards the booths offering games of chance or cheating, as well as hot, sweet treats. "Come on, let's get some spyder-cyder. All that ash in the air is making me thirsty."

Grunting an acquiescence, Beetlejuice dug in his pocket for two grubby fives, muttering under his breath about these sorts of places always gouging prices. When he thought she didn't notice, he looked at her with a little, worried furrow to his brow. Like something was wrong with her. But if there was, she didn't know what.

The cyder was hot, spiced, and as she discovered when it hit her tongue, infused with a healthy shot of liquor, making her gasp, and cough, before returning her attention to the drink. This time though, she drank it more slowly. She probably wouldn't have drunk it at all, if she wasn't with someone she trusted, who she knew would get her home safely.

Drinking alcohol wasn't really her thing normally, even if she wasn't underage here. Probably because she had a tolerance kind of like her mother's, at least for the Neitherworld stuff. But she was thirsty, and it tasted good. So she made an exception.

Beetlejuice of course, drowned his in three gulps. He probably didn't even notice there was booze in it. Tossing the cup to the side negligently, he kept his arm around her, straightening the buttons of his worn white shirt with the other hand, and tugging his striped jacket to cover them.

"So, Lyds, what was your favorite part?" He asked, sort of nonchalantly, like he was just making conversation… Except that Beetlejuice had never seen the need to, 'just make conversation.' Not with her. So something was on his mind.

Puzzled, she turned her head, gazing at him over the side of the cup, as she took another drink. Hot and fiery, going down. Pleasantly spicy.

Finally she lowered it, smiling. "The golem dragon." She admitted, tsking softly under her breath as she remembered. "It was huge, and old, like something you'd find in some castle in Europe. Or a spooky garden." It had trodden down the street with thunderous steps, swinging its long neck and tail, claws raking the well worn street, its breath sending hails of sparks everywhere…

"Definitely… deadly." She finished softly. Beetlejuice looked at her a little oddly at the words… Come to think of it, she didn't use that phrase much anymore, did she? It had kind of been more of a kid thing, but now that she thought of it, she missed saying it. "Deadly-vu…" She whispered slowly, trying the now unfamiliar words out on her tongue. "Definitely."

Beetlejuice just sort of stared at her, for upwards of three breaths, before his face broke into a sort of slow smile. "Huh." He mused, as if there were something particularly noteworthy about this. "Deadly, huh?"

"All right then!" He clapped his hands hard, still around her, making her jump a little, and rubbed them together fiercely. "It's a start, right? We had a good fucking day… That's what it's all about!" He added, with a significant glance in her direction, and a little more fondly, "Just me and my babes."

Lydia smiled, leaning into his shoulder. "Guess so." She agreed softly, closing her eyes for a moment, to breath in that deep, familiar smell of his… So she didn't see his own smile vanish, or that perplexed, unhappy look return to his mouth.

When she opened her eyes again, she returned her attention to her drink, before offering it to him, well aware she'd probably already drunk more than she should. "Want some?"

"Hell, Lyds, if you weren't going to drink it…" He muttered under his breath, like that wasn't what he was thinking at all, as he snagged from cup from her, and started to drink it… Only to pause, both his eyebrows flying up, as he noticed what he should have before. "Huh. Hard cyder." It really had escaped him, after all. But then he swallowed that too in three gulps, before grinning at her, a little more lewdly than before. "So, now that I got you all liquored up, babes…" A little, suggestive squeeze. "You feeling all soft and willing?"

"It hardly takes booze for that." She pointed out, temporarily distracted by one of the now dormant parade floats suddenly lifting its head, looking around, and then dropping it, playing dormant again. "But yeah, I could definitely use the company, Beej."

"Compan-" Beetlejuice practically choke on the word, and looked at her like she was more than a little insane. "Goddamn it, babes! If _company's_ the best I can offer you, you get that from a fucking lamppost around here!" It was the closest he'd offered to an explosion so far though, and all Lydia did was look at him quizzically, like she had no clue what he was going on about. "I mean, not that that ever stops me, but I don't usually have to invite you to jump my bones, babes!"

They were, now, the center of some attention, and Lydia, paying no attention to the rest of them, just smiled slowly at the poltergeist, suddenly feeling just a little more sure of herself… Which had been oddly lacking the last few days. "True." She agreed simply, taking his fingers gently into hers. "That never has stopped you. But right now, Beej…" Her voice dropped, just a little. "It isn't some roll in the sheets I need. It's my best friend."

Her words effectively stole any that he might have had, pretty much sucking the breath from his chest while they were at it, and leaving him feeling more or less lost for any ability to argue. Best friend. It'd been a while since she'd called him that, hadn't it? All this boyfriend, lover, husband stuff… "Yeah," He said slowly, running his fingers slowly across his scalp again, a little more seriously than he ever liked to hear himself, "Best friend. Sure thing, Lyds. I ain't forgot that."

Lydia stood up on her tiptoes, and kissed the corner of his chin lightly, making him smile on reflex, before staring off at nothing at all, rather sourly, even as he pulled her back against his thick frame. Best friends. Sure, he'd be her best friend. Chat like old times… He still liked doing that. But as soon as she was asleep, he needed some serious time to think.

Preferably somewhere with a hell of a lot harder liquor than was in that cyder.

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He knew he should be fucking happy. She'd chosen him. Chosen the Neitherworld. And over the last five days, hadn't once suggested crawling back to the living world to make peace. Screw the fact that he'd wanted out so badly… With her there, the Neitherworld was paradise.

Only… Only it wasn't. Because despite her best effort to put on a contented face, despite her best efforts to prove to both of them that this was what she wanted, his babes… She wasn't the same. Something had gone out of her eyes. Some indefinable little spark, that made the girl who she was. And he wanted it back.

"Cherry brandy." He murmured, a dull little rasp, as he tried to recapture some sensation that he knew no drink could. Especially not this Neitherworld crap. But he took the glass when it reached his hand, tipped it a little to look at the rich, rust-colored liquid within, and grunted, dissatisfied, nonetheless. He didn't drink it. He just sort of sat there, swishing the sweet liquor around in the little glass. Thinking.

The bartender watched him, with one eye. Literally, focused on the ghost with the most, as he went about his duties, the other swiveling in his head as needed to address his other customers' requests. Clearly, he didn't know what to make of the situation. He'd probably seen the ghost come in the dinky little bar some thousand times, and knew him well enough to know that the man pretty much always caused trouble… But tonight, causing trouble looked like the last thing on the poltergeist's mind. He looked like he'd brought his troubles in with him.

No one talked much. Certainly no one said anything to Beetlejuice. And he hadn't sat there but five minutes, maybe ten, when he stood up again, put a five on the counter, and left his drink there, untouched. He be damned if he messed up the memory of that taste with some cheap Neitherworld shit.

The cold air hit his face pretty hard, and the poltergeist shrugged into his long coat, not because he needed it against the cold, but because he wasn't in the mood to deal with the bone biting wind, stealing what little warmth he had. No reason to go crawling back into bed with Lyds, when he was like a block of goddamn ice.

But he didn't go home. Not right away. That is, he meant to, but when he reached the street that would have led to the roadhouse, he paused, scratched his chin, looked at the sky, and turned right, when he should have turned left.

She probably wondered where he was. Couldn't go calling for his ass anymore, not that she'd ever been able to. Maybe she was sleeping. They'd had a long day, checking out the Street Fairs and Scares. Munching sugary sweet neitherworld goodies as they watched a parade of grotesques, much as he'd promised her after their little Mardi Gras fiasco. And she'd grinned, clicking away with her camera, leaning into his arm…

Maybe it was his imagination. That could be it. Maybe the kid was actually fine, and he was dreaming some drama shit up where there wasn't any. Why the hell would he do that?

"Wouldn't." He grunted aloud, a one word answer to the neitherworld at large, sucking in his breath between his teeth, slowly, before saying it again, punctuated this time by a short stubborn shake of his head. "Wouldn't. No way in hell. Goddamnit." He stopped in his tracks, scowled at the sky, and spit to the side, trying to figure everything through.

It should have been a simple equation. It always had been before. Babes wasn't happy, he'd find a way to make her happy. Never been a problem for him. But she didn't usually bullshit this good either. He figured the kid was even fooling herself, this time. And he didn't have a fucking clue what to do. Not any good ones.

He didn't like that.

The low lamplight fell around him with a sort of pale, flickering glow. Somewhere, some electric-sounding buzz hummed through the night. The street was empty, except for him. And for the death of him, he knew his answers weren't out here. They were back there. With Lyds. That's where all the answers were. Where they'd always been. Even when she really was just a kid.

_Best friend_.

Grimacing, he paid little attention to the rusted metal bench as he fell his weight across it, tipping his head back, certain he could feel the moonlight on his face. Closing his eyes. Running his hand down his face. Goddamn it, all he had to do was fix this, and his afterlife would be fucking perfect. Until the next time the in-law's screwed up anyway. Or, whatever happened.

He drew a cigarette from his pocket with a sigh, lifted it between his lips, and muttered aloud, "Never knew the living world had that kind of a hold on you, Lyds. Goddamn if I'd have ever believed it." A flicker of light, a flame, and then a deep, slow intake of smoke. And he sat there. Not ready to go home. And not sure why he was avoiding what he already knew full fucking well he couldn't run away from.

They had to go fucking back.

There weren't any of the normal, living world night sounds in the Neitherworld. There were crickets here and there, but they preferred swamps. No katydids, or cicadas, or spring peepers, or what-have-you. Not much of anything, outside of the Neitherwoods. Wings rustling, from little unseen _things_, fluttering place to place. The hiss of steam, low in the sewers. Deep, creaking sounds, as the ancient buildings around him, few well cared for, swayed in the winds, and settled on their foundations.

And after he'd sat there several minutes, soft footsteps, coming out of the darkness, just as the first large drops of rain fell, hit him square in the face, and did their best to put out his cigarette.

When the footsteps stopped in front of him, he lowered his head, blinking the drops from his eyes, and narrowed them, trying to make out the blurry figure in the dark… Smirking, as his mind registered a heavy red poncho, inlaid with black stitching. Even before he made out his babes's face. "How the hell do you keep finding me, Lyds?" He grunted, sitting up a little straighter, and patting his knee, in an invitation to sit down.

Instead, the girl moved to sit on the bench beside him, the bench that could barely hold his weight as it was, and tipped her own head back to regard the sky, smiling a secretive little smile. "Old scars." Was all she said, softly, well aware that he wouldn't be willing to leave it at that… Not after three times, only giving this same vague answer.

"Old scars." He gazed at her dubiously, wondering if there was some kind of trick to this, before shrugging, like he couldn't care either way, and throwing his arm around her shoulder. "What the fuck ever. '_Old scars._'"

"Mm." She seemed to consider leaving it there. Like maybe she _should _leave it there, for both their sakes. And then after a few seconds, she went on anyway. "When my heart stopped." She admitted, quietly, making the poltergeist stiffen in response. He didn't like to think of that. Didn't like to remember how he'd almost… How he pretty much _had_, killed the girl. "From when I tried to break our bond. Even if your juice isn't there anymore, it remembers what it feels like. Like a scar. But a good one."

Without any accusation, or shift in her tone to show the words were meant to be cruel, she dropped her head on his shoulder, and moved closer into his side, her next words a whisper. "Just figured it out a couple days ago, but I think I could find you anywhere…"

Slowly, he lifted one hand, swallowing heavily, and rested it on her crown of black silk, already trying to push the words from his mind. "Yeah, okay." He agreed, with a forced nonchalance. "So what the hell, you checking on me now?"

A small pause, and then a soft chuckle, warm breath against his neck, raising goosebumps. "Maybe. You've been acting funny. I guess I was just kind of worried about you."

Beetlejuice lifted one eyebrow, and peered down at the girl incredulously. "_I_ been acting funny?" He grunted, making sure he had this right. "Miss, '_Oh no, I'm finnne…_' Like there ain't shit bugging you?" She didn't answer, just looking up to meet his eyes, hers oddly bereft of emotion. Flat, lackluster. None of the depth and fire he loved.

And then she sighed, and turned away, not pulling from him, but snuggling deeper into his embrace, just a little, halfhearted sigh. "But… I don't _want _to go back, Beej…"

"Life ain't always about doing what we want." The poltergeist heard himself say, grimacing and choking on every word, like he was trying to keep them from coming out… Because of course, hell if he believed them himself… usually.

In fact, he wasn't able to resist following them with a derogatory snort, admitting, "Hell, you know that's straight bullshit, coming from me, babes. But it's what I'm fucking _supposed_ to say here, right?"

Lydia giggled, not even pointing out how unlikely it was for the poltergeist to ever do what he was supposed to do. "I guess." Her hand caught the loose flap of his coat firmly, tucking it into her palm, and focusing on the coarse fabric, rather than how to answer him now. But of course, no distraction lasted long. "I'm, not happy, am I, Beej?" Very, very softly, and more than a little confused. "Why not? I thought I was."

"Huh." He disentangled her small hand from his coat, and slid it up against his chest, her fingertips brushing aside the worn cloth there, to caress against his chest, without even noticing. Even if he did. "Being all angst-y ain't your shit, babes. But I gotta tell you, I figure it ain't your fault. You're just too goddamn good a person. You actually give a fuck about making up with those…" He gave a wild gesture with one arm, suggesting that no derogatory term he could think of was good enough to describe her family here. "_Whatever_. Hell if I understand why you do. They sure as hell don't deserve it."

Lydia made a small, noncommittal sound, and straightened slowly. Her eyebrows furrowed. "Stubborn idiots." She agreed, though this was nowhere near a strong enough explicative to describe them, as far as he was concerned. "Goddamn it Beej, I feel like, I'm dreaming…"

"Huh." He considered her at length, studyingly, before smirking. "Too much Neitherworld hocus pocus. I gotta tell you, it's been making my skin crawl something crazy, myself. Place like this just ain't good for you breathers, spending so much time here. That's why you got your own world."

This time she laughed, and it was a little, relieved sound, as if, yes, she could blame all these confusing, conflicting feelings, on Neitherworld hocus pocus, and half-awake dreaming. "Yeah, sure," She teased, "Blame the Neitherworld, the only place that makes any frigging sense to me at all…"

Beetlejuice's grin turned a little more genuine, something heavy falling from the poltergeist's shoulders. Thank god. She was fucking teasing him again. That was the first positive sign he'd had from the girl since this whole shit began. "Well hell, babes…" He drawled, sort of slow-like, and absolutely full of himself, "You _are _only human…"

A laugh turned to a little, outraged sound, as Lydia quickly struggled in his grasp in an effort to, probably, start beating him with his own hat again. Instead though, he caught her hard, squeezed her arms easily to her side, and pinned her in place against him, grinning his ass off, until she stopped struggling, and just gave him a little faux dirty glare… Before dissolving into laughter again. And damn if that wasn't it. There was his babes again.

His breath hissed out between his lips slowly as he released her, and she made no further attempts at make-believe injury, looking a bit like she'd dropped a big weight herself. "Good to have you back, Lyds." He noted, matter-of-factly, as he looked around for his cigarette, lost in the little tussle… And found it, soaking in a puddle on the ground.

Huh. It was still raining, wasn't it? He threw an arm about Lydia again, half hauling her to her feet, and shook his finger at her, about an inch from her nose. "What'd I tell you about going out in this kind of shitty weather, babes? You think just 'cause you're half dead now, you can't still get yourself fucking killed over a goddamn chill?"

Lydia caught his finger, grimacing, and kissed his nose, dripping with rainwater. Looking up at him beneath dark lashes, heavy with their drops. "You think you know so much…" She smirked, falling against his side, as with a flick of his fingers, he summoned up an umbrella he hadn't used in centuries, sad sorry state that it was in, and swung it over both their heads… The part that still had a good bit of cloth in it of course, covering his babes.

They could have just juiced back to the roadhouse, of course, but Beetlejuice knew a few things about the girl, and one of them was that she loved walking in the rain, especially at night. Besides, he wasn't in any hurry. For all he knew, things would turn to shit again real quickly, once they got back to the roadhouse. Damn if he could even figure half of the things that could go wrong. But for now… Things were good.

For once in his afterlife, trouble could take its own damn time. He could wait.

----------------


	9. It Came To This

If the world was the way I wanted it, not only would the _idea_ for Beetlejuice be mine, but so would Beetlejuice himself. That is, alas, not the case. I don't own any of it, not Lyds, not Beej, not the Neitherworld... Basically not anything in these pages that can otherwise be accredited to Tim Burton, and/or the Geffen Film Company. Now, there is some stuff in here that is mine... But you? You're reading this for _Beetlejuice_... And Lydia. And them together. Am I right?

-----------------

Ever since I started my new job, around October, I've been miserable, and it's shown both in my lack of writing, and I think, the quality of what I do write as well. Well, I quit two days ago. I don't know what's next, but already I'm writing again, and I feel like I can breathe. Call me a quitter, I guess. But suddenly all those stories I didn't even want to think about writing, seem like they could be _fun_ again...

I really don't know what kind of person this makes me...

---------------

It made sense, in its own way, that the moment she realized she had to go back… Was the moment it no longer seemed to matter just when she actually did. And so another three days passed, all in all much easier than the first five had, and each day she put it off, 'just a little longer.' And if Neitherworld hocus pocus had been playing with her mind… Well, apparently she'd gotten used to it.

And it was an odd little sight that greeted the night of the third day, stranger still because it seemed almost normal. Beetlejuice sitting in a patched up leather armchair, reading the newspaper, and grunting from time to time as he turned the pages. Beetlejuice, who she'd never suspected wore glasses, grudgingly sporting them on his nose, peering thoughtfully at one of a large pile of race results, years old, in the entertainment column. From time to time, looking up at her. And her horse. Who was contentedly chewing on a handful of dried weeds in his wife's hand. In the middle of the living room.

They were, for the moment, procrastinating, and Lydia went through no pains to deny it. Looking up from her spot at the 'horse's' hooves, sleeking down his long legs with a soft brush, via her free hand, she considered her husband with a small, vague smirk. It had been a long day. It was always a long day when Beetlejuice was around. But it was always _fun_. And there was the ghost with the most… "Clipping coupons, Beej?" She teased his lightly, flipping a long black strand out of her face with the back of her hand.

Beetlejuice grunted, absently, not doing more than lifting his eyes to glance over the simple wire frames, and waved his hand at the pile of clippings, bemused. "Trying to figure out what that damn nag of yours is worth, babes. Can't have it eating us out of house and home." A second gesture of his hand indicated where the beast, apparently not satisfied with its meal of hay, had actually started chewing through the heavy wood of one wall, offering a glimpse into the kitchen. "Know what I mean?"

"We're not selling the horse." Lydia denied, matter-of-factly, moving slowly to her feet. She'd been kneeling a long time… "I don't care what he's worth." This last, with just the slightest trace of a frown in the poltergeist's direction.

Her husband made a brief, rude sound. "Sell it? Screw that! That, Lydia Deetz-Juice," He tipped his hand, carelessly, pointing with one finger in her stallion's direction, "Is a _racehorse_. And a damn good one. All I'm saying is that the damn animal can pay its own way."

"And then some?" Lydia prompted, raising one eyebrow. Beetlejuice grinned, his usual, sleazy grin… As usual, making her laugh, regardless of the answer she was about to offer. "No thank you, Beetlejuice… We are not crossing the Neitherworld Mob again. Last time we managed that, we ended up in Sandworm Land for seven hours, trying to find our way out, with nothing but one warm beer between us!"

Beetlejuice feigned a frown, crinkling his brow in protest. "I woulda' let you have it, Lyds…"

"_Neitherworld _beer." Lydia clarified, somehow still amused by the incident that had nearly gotten them killed… Repeatedly, over those seven hours. "Which smelled like nail polish remover." She waved this away. "Not remotely the point. We are not messing with the mob again."

This time, Beetlejuice scowled. She didn't often get that tone to her voice, but when she did, even his damnedest couldn't dissuade her. "…'The hell makes you think they run the goddamn racetrack?" He grunted, doing his futile best to stare her down, when he knew damn well her mind was made up. Oh well, maybe he could race the beast some time when she was off visiting her folks. What she didn't know and all that…

_Wait, oh yeah, her folks…_

Oblivious to this new thought going through his head, Lydia just pressed, hands lightly on either hip, "Don't they?"

"Hmm? Beetlejuice looked up, having rapidly lost his train of thought… And then grinned, shit-facedly, reclaiming it. "Well, yeah… But hell, what ain't run by the mob is run by the damn royals! Can't win either way, that way, Lyds!" A pause, a pointed look at the animal, and a thoughtful frown. "He's a stallion, ain't he? Maybe we can still make a few bucks, and let the old boy have a little fun while we're at it…"

"Meantime!" He clapped his hands together, hard, making even Lydia unintentionally jump, as he grinned at her all too knowingly. "'Bout that time, kiddo… You been putting it off all goddamn day now, we both know it ain't gonna go away!"

For a single, blessed instant, Lydia didn't know what he was talking about… Then groaned, slouching like a cloth doll that had been tossed around one too many times, and couldn't stand straight anymore.

"Oh, god _damn_ it." She muttered, weaving her fingers carelessly through long, haphazard locks. "Is it eight o'clock already?" By way of answer, Beetlejuice just flicked his fingers towards the cockroach clock in the corner, grimacing as well… Not so much in sympathy, as the fact that he was going to be expected to stand by the girl through the forthcoming bullshit.

"Whatever, babes." He agreed, clearly not looking forward to the little reunion himself. "You got a better way to handle this, I'm all ears." Lydia lifted her head, just enough to meet his gaze, and shook her head resignedly. "Thought so." He pulled the pair of glasses lightly from his nose- they seemed to have no handles, just wire encircled lenses, and tucked them into his pocket, rising in one smooth motion. "Let's get going babes. Don't want to keep the old bat waiting."

Nodding Lydia moved into his side, sliding one hand around his waist, keeping his eyes the whole time. Just as he was about to pull them between worlds, as she made no move to, she smiled suddenly, her dark eyes glinting with tease. "You got the old man look down pretty good with those specs of your, Beej. Better be careful, or people are gonna start talking about you being a dirty old lecher."

Beetlejuice guffawed, giving her a discreet little pinch, and winked, crooked teeth bared in a gleaming grin. "Well hell babes, long as they ain't saying anything that ain't _true_…" He dropped a light kiss on her forehead, tucked his arm around her firmly, and added, in a gruff voice, "Hold on, kiddo. The old bag's not gonna be happy we're late."

The next moment had them suspended in a place that at once did, and didn't exist. With spun sugar crystals of brilliant pink, sparks of glinting ice that fell across her skin and on her eyelashes, and spiraling lights, darting in and out of shadows real enough to brush the hair from her face, with warm autumn winds. Gold, spinning out into strands of silk that led off forever… _This place is changing_, she noted softly, wondering at how much it took from both their magics now.

_Only way this place could change,_ he denied easily, dismissing the idea without so much as a second glance to see if it were true, _was if I changed, Lyds… And I ain't changed for shit._

_Of course not, Beej._ She agreed with a smile, resting her cheek, for a moment, against his heavy chest. _You'll never change_. Even if the evidence for it was all around them, kissing the tiny hairs of her arms and making them stand on end, whispering, with ghostly breaths, across her lips…

They dropped, rather unceremoniously, into a crooked hallway with an uneven stone floor, and a long line of doors that led off apparently forever. "Huh." Beetlejuice mused, caught a little off balance by their sudden arrival, and looking a little perplexed by it. "Well all right then." He adjusted his coat, took a deep breath, looked at her with a twist of thin humor to his lips, and noted, matter-of-factly, "After you, babes."

Lydia shook her head, amused, but offered no argument, turning without hesitation towards the narrow glass door just to their left, and rapped on the frosted surface, hard… Only once. At her first touch, even as the sound was still resounding through the air, the door flew open hard enough to crack the heavy glass in its frame, and they were faced with a room full of people that, honestly, were the last people, living or dead, that either of them really wanted to face just then.

"Come in!" Juno snapped, clearly not pleased, right off the bat. Her smoky blue eyes glaring at them like two chips of slate, tiny frame somehow managing to consume most of the presence in the room, white plumes billowing around her. "Fifteen minutes late!" She hissed, greeting them both with an almost animalistic flash of teeth. "Do you think I don't have better things to do? Do you think you two-" A pause, and then, with a pointed correction, "You _four_, are my only cases?"

"Lydia…" Barbara was on her feet, trying to move towards the daughter she'd had no word from in over a week, only to be shoved to the side, rather ungently, by Juno, who it seemed, was not done yet.

"From the moment you stepped into the neitherworld," She pressed on, shaking the hand with the cigarette in Lydia's direction, as if she found her particularly at fault here, "All you've done is cause me headaches! Now don't get me wrong…" She suddenly seemed to remember what the slender bit of white in her hand was for, and placed it between her lips for a long drag, before glaring irritably at the girl again. "Don't get me wrong, you've made some things a hell of a lot easier, where _he's_ concerned." She gave a vague gesture towards Beetlejuice. "But you still cause me more trouble than any three of my other clients combined! Do you think I like wasting time? Do you think I enjoy sorting out these messes you keep getting yourself into?"

"And this!" She waved furiously at the four behind her, regaining her vehemence as she continued, "This shouldn't even involve me! This is a personal problem! So you sort it out yourself! And do it fast," She added, finally stalking back to her desk, buried, as always, under several feet of paperwork. "I have more important things to do… _Better_ things to do, than sorting out your family squabbles!"

No one seemed to be quite certain if she was done yet, because as she dropped down heavily to her chair, and flipped open the nearest folder, no one there said a word to break the sudden silence. In fact, it was almost a full minute before Beetlejuice, naturally, chuckled softly, adjusted his coat sleeve, and shot a smug little look at Lydia… Who like him, was hard pressed not to laugh. Not that Juno couldn't be all intimidating, lightning and thundery… The first thirty times or so they'd caught her in one of these moods. The awe just sort of wore off after a while.

Clearly though, not for her parents. Barbara and Adam's expressions might as well have been mirrors of each other's, shock, disbelief, worry. Her mother looked angry, and a little sick. Her father on the other hand, appeared to have noticed little of it, the impressive show of anger more or less lost on him, as he seemed barely aware of his surroundings.

Like Juno had said, some breathers just weren't meant to deal with the dead.

"Now that we've got that out of the way…" She agreed under her breath, flipping her hair back, and doing her best to stare down four sets of eyes at once… One of which was doing their best not to look at anything at all. "So, neutral ground, right?"

"Neutral ground?" Olivia echoed hollowly, her fingers white-knuckled tight on the unadorned metal arms of the chair. "Lydia Deetz, this is the last straw…!"

"Uh, Deetz-_Juice_." Beetlejuice chimed in helpfully, grinning his most charming grin, in an effort to get under the woman's skin _just_ a little more. Never one to just forgive and forget. "You kinda forgot that last part, doll."

Olivia's eyes could have turned water to stone. "Lydia _Deetz_." She echoed quietly, the sort of low, building rage that usually came before a really good shouting match, turning back to her daughter before the poltergeist could correct her again. "I've taken all I can from you. Lying. Hiding things. Running around with-!" A gesture towards the person in the room she was currently refusing to acknowledge. "Jumping off between worlds, putting yourself in god only knows what kind of danger…!"

Her breath caught, abruptly, and she closed her eyes, breathing in again deeply before she opened them again, somehow giving the appearance of being marginally more collected, when everyone there knew she wasn't. "Enough. No more, Lydia Deetz. You are a _child_. We are going home, you are going back to school… You are _grounded_…"

At this point, anything further she had to say was broken off, rather undignifiedly, by Beetlejuice laughing his ass off, doubled over, and practically _falling _over, as Olivia proceeded to make her list of demands. He basically ended up sitting on the floor, holding one foot in either hand, and gasping so hard that his face gained a surprising amount of color. "H-holy fuck… That's a good one…!"

Olivia, in one of her rare moments of bravery towards her long time fear, took three decisive steps towards him, until he fell under her shadow, teeth clenched in a surprising approximation of a small, angry animal. "You think this is _funny_?" She snarled, the effect utterly lost as her voice broke, ending in a completely unintimidating squeak, which only made Beetlejuice laugh harder.

"Goddamnit," He cackled at last, oblivious to the fact that she was trying to appear intimidating, and shaking his finger at her in good humor, "That's the best impression I ever seen you do of that red-headed bitch… What was her name…?" For a moment, his chuckles paused, and his lips peeled back in a clear greeting of hostility to hostility, undisguised by humor. "Delia, right?

Clearly this was the last thing she'd expected, to be compared to a woman that pretty much everyone there knew she hated, if not as much now as she had when she was young… And then she was moving, almost too fast to follow, doing her best to strike the poltergeist with the flat of her hand, and a little, outraged cry…

Beetlejuice caught her intended blow between two fingers, clearly not using a fraction of his strength, and smiled at her again. This time nothing but a baring of teeth. "Bitch." He hissed at her, plain as day. "Miserable. Fucking. Bitch."

"_Ungrateful_!" He went on, rising from his place on the floor, without benefit of his legs, so that he was sitting cross-legged, at eye-level with the woman, as he continued his rant, "_Backstabbing! Spoiled! Fucking! Bitch!"_

By this point, everyone there was staring at him, even Lydia, completely at a loss as to what had brought on this sudden outrage in the poltergeist, who was, now, squeezing Olivia's arm hard enough to make her lips part in a silent sound of pain. _"Self-pitying, double-crossing, suicidal little brat!"_ Now he was openly snarling, for all to see._ "_Don't you ever, ever, _ever _talk to my Lyds like she ain't shit, or I swear to whatever miserable little heathen god you pray to, my babes will _never _find out where I hid your sorry little corpse! Get it?"

With one solid motion, he threw her forward, not hard enough to actually break her arm or- as he might have desired, send her through the wall- but enough to elicit a little scream of surprise and pain in response.

"Now." He said matter-of-factly, more calm now that they'd gotten _that_ out of the way… And no less menacing. "The rest of you ready to fucking kiss and make up, or do I gotta ram _all_ your heads through brick walls before you're gonna listen?"

All of them had just sort of stared, shocked… For once, no one moved to the living woman's aide. Maybe each for their own reasons. Lydia, for example, was just standing there in shock, because she hadn't seen this side of her best friend, since the time she'd been kidnapped and chained up, no more than a week after she started visiting the Neitherworld. It was, kind of impressive… But not a side of him she really liked to see.

So after a moment, when she did move, it wasn't to her mother's side… In all honesty, she paid no more attention to the older woman at all, moving closer to Beetlejuice instead, and taking his arm in her hand, gently. He grunted, not quite looking at anyone anymore, and she had the sudden, distinct feeling that he was embarrassed at having lost his temper in front of her. Letting old wounds get the best of him. After a moment though, he put his hand over hers, and made another, softer sound, a sort of acceptance. Like he was glad she was still on his side.

"Thanks, babes." Was all he said, quietly, though she hadn't done anything at all.

Of course, this was utterly beside the fact that he had, in fact, not solved any of her problems, but most likely created more. But it was the thought that counted. Mostly.

"Are you done?" Juno demanded flatly, as everyone was still gathering their bearings after the unexpected attack. She, of all of them, appeared totally unimpressed by the show of anger… But then, she probably knew Beetlejuice better than any of them there, including Lydia. Having seen the poltergeist at his worst… Well, this was nothing. "Because you're still cutting into my time, and I'll have you know, I don't have a lot of time to waste."

A pause, and then a glance around the room, her gaze finally settling on Edmond, who was, finally, paying attention to his surroundings a bit. Like that had reached even _him_. "Why don't you try saying something to these idiots, Deetz? You seem to have a better grasp of the situation than most of them."

How she could have surmised this was anyone's guess, since the man still seemed in a rather dream-like state, if a bit more lucid now than he had been before Beetlejuice's little show of temper. Still, he looked at each of them in turn as if he really had no idea what to make of anything… Until his eyes landed on his daughter, and beside her, her husband. Then his lips thinned, and for the moment at least, he seemed to know exactly where he was.

"Lydia," He said softly, his tone almost eerily in control, despite the chaos of everything that had happened until then, "Are you happy?" The question surprised her… If only because no one else had thought to ask her this yet, despite her constant insistence that, yes, she was. After a moment, she just nodded, slowly. Her dad considered her, considered her answer, then simply nodded back, as if that was that. "All right then."

"All right then?" Olivia whispered, having apparently regained enough of her composure to offer this much protest. "Have you lost your _mind_, Edmond Deetz? How is _any_ of this, _all right_?"

Edmond turned, and looked at the woman he'd been married to for more or less than twenty years, he couldn't even remember himself at the moment, and a thousand emotions crossed his eyes… Not the least of which was simply a profound sense of something lost…

Regret. "Liv," He said softly, using a pet name for her that he hadn't used since their heavy arguments had begun, "They're in love, and they're happy." A brief, heavy pause, before, with a new sort of gentleness for the situation, "That's more than either one of us have right now. What right do we have to take it away from them?"

At first, Olivia just stared by way of answer… Her mouth opening and closing, like she wanted to protest… And then something fell over her features, profoundly, like a slow realization. As if only now seeing just what they'd had, that she'd been so willing to throw away. And for a moment they just stared at each other, exchanging this sense that it was too late to go back now, to have back what they'd lost, and for the first time, realizing that maybe they wanted to.

Finally she looked away, as if all the anger had drained out of her, and said nothing at all, staring at an uneven place on the floor. This was a silence no one broke, not even Beetlejuice, who shifted, rather uncomfortably Lydia thought, under the weightiness of it all.

And when Olivia did speak, it was to say nothing at all of the understanding that had just passed between them. "I… want her to be happy." She said simply, whether agreeing with him, or just finally coming to this realization herself, Lydia had no way of knowing. It was possible she wasn't even talking about her daughter anymore at all.

Somehow, this almost seemed like it would be the end of it… But that was the sort of thing she didn't buy into for a second. Not again. Adam and Barb had been 'okay' with it as well, after all, before pulling a complete one-eighty on them… She expected no less from the rest of her parents. Especially her mother.

So the woman surprised her when she moved, without a word, to the bare metal chair across from Juno, sat down, and looked pointedly at her hands, folded in her lap. As if that, after all, was that. Then finally, she did speak. "Will you be coming home, Lydia?" Just, sort of softly, like somehow this acceptance from her husband was harder on her than anything that Beetlejuice could have offered. She looked up a moment later, her features oddly bereft of any sort of frustration or anger. "It won't be the same without you."

At first, it seemed like Barbara just wasn't willing to believe she'd heard right, offering a small, guttural sound of protest, before moving to her adopted daughter's side, and closing both her hands around the woman's arm. "Is she coming _home_…?" It wasn't really a question, so much as a plea to be assured that she in fact, was, that things were going to go back to the way before, that somehow, their little family would be all right…

"It's her decision, Barbara." Adam pointed out, oddly the one to take the other empty chair, though why Juno only had two when there were so many of them there, Lydia couldn't have said. "What are we supposed to do…?" He gestured towards Olivia helplessly. "Ground her? It doesn't matter if she's still our little girl, she's a grown woman now, by law… _Married_…" A sort of tightening of his lips, and a brief shake of his head. "If we couldn't control her when she actually was a kid, what chance do you think we have now?"

Barb just shook her head, looking from one to another of her 'allies,' expecting to see some sort of reassurance in one of their faces… Some sort of promise that the little girl she'd loved from the moment Lydia was born, wasn't going to just… go away. "Juno?" She pleaded at last, facing the caseworker, her last hope, desperately. "There has to be something you can do to stop this…"

Juno sighed, putting out her cigarette slowly, and shot the dead woman a sympathetic grimace. "Honey, the prince of the goddamn neitherworld himself couldn't keep those two apart." A brief, helpless gesture. "Just what the hell do you think I can do?"

For a long moment, Barbara just stared at the woman, the end all and be all of any sense of control or restriction she knew in the afterlife, just telling her that nothing could be done… And then she looked at Lydia, something in her eyes just, yielding, to soft pain behind. "Lydia…?" She whispered, her voice audibly shaking now. "You're not leaving us, are you? You're not choosing him over _us_?"

And for just an instant, facing that look of utter helplessness in her foster mother's eyes, Lydia felt herself respond with an irrational surge of anger… Almost an 'I told you so.'

"I told you," She whispered in fact, managing to meet Barb's gaze without crying, if only because her own emotions were so twisted up in confusion in her belly, "The one who makes me choose, is the one I'm walking away from." It was cruel, and felt bitter, falling from her tongue…

But she felt like she'd crossed some point of no return, and even if she wasn't sure when it had happened, she suddenly decided that if she was damned in their eyes, she was going to be as damned as she could be. After all, she'd never _said_ she was leaving them… Why would she be coming back now, if she planned to leave them? But it felt like the thing to say, and Lydia being Lydia, she never did listen to that little voice of common sense that would currently now, for example, be telling her this was a good time to shut up.

So she just smiled, in the face of the pain of the woman she loved most in the living world, and prompted softly, "Are you making me choose?" And it felt a bit like someone had just pushed a dagger in her gut, and was twisting it, slowly. And she never once let on.

Barbara's mouth moved, silently, in what might have been denial… Before slowly, something in her seemed to give up. Utter desperation turned her own lips into a smile, and she shook her head, wiping away tears with her thumb, as she finally seemed to figure out what everyone else already had. "God, no." She whispered, her voice shaky, resigned, but oddly relieved as well. "No, I'm not making you choose, Lydia. Just _come home_."

And Beetlejuice could see what was coming next, and tried to put an arm out to comfort the girl, maybe the only one there who knew the hell she was putting herself through, all for his sorry ass, but Lydia was already moving, a sound like a broken sob rising in her throat as she ran to her foster mother, burying her face in the soft, flowered print, and started crying. For a minute, he thought the kid was going to start apologizing, and felt his teeth grind a little, hackles rising, not _wanting _her to apologize for giving a damn about him…

But all she whispered was a soft, relieved, "_Thank you_…" Even now, even now, not once saying she was sorry for how she felt, or all she'd done, the secrets and lies, to stay beside him.

And before the poltergeist could figure out how to keep himself from leaking a few baffled tears in front of the damn in-law's, Juno sighed, pushed her paperwork back, and stood slowly… Like somehow, despite her unaging, the years, or maybe just the last few moments, were beginning to exhaust her. "Well," She said slowly, as if, like them, she had a great burden lifted off her chest, for all that she'd pretended not to care only a few moments before, "If you've all made your peace with this, there _are _one or two more things that have to be settled before you can leave."

This surprised all of them, maybe no one so much as Beetlejuice, who had already had more than enough fucking drama for one day, and wanted nothing so much as to, ironically, run right back to the neitherworld he'd been so desperate to escape, and hole up for a few days with the wife… With nothing more urgent to worry about than whether or not that damn take-out place he liked still had his address blocked from their delivery route.

"What?" He growled intelligently, glancing at Lyds, to see if she had any clue about this. She though, just caught his eye, shook his head, and looked as baffled as he was. "All right, what the fuck is it now…?"

Juno smiled, the sort of smile that said she was well used to his bullshit, thank you, and it did nothing to impress her anymore. "A permanent residence does have to be determined." She explained, deliberately slowly, as if he might have trouble understanding the words. "Every one of my cases," And she indicated the vast piles around her, "Has a single permanent address. _One_. Either the Neitherworld or the living world."

Her hands folded neatly under her chin, and with a glint to her eyes that was almost oddly enjoying the trouble she was currently stirring up again so soon, noted matter-of-factly, "It really is just technicalities, mind you. You can go back and forth as you please, but all the same," A tap on the open folder before her, "I need to have something to write down, Ms. Juice."

"Well, with us, of course." Olivia said slowly, after a moment of silence. "She's still alive, she…"

"Is just as dead as she is alive." Juno objected, a bit vindictively, as if finally getting back at them all for interrupting her work day. "And as grateful as I am for your opinion on the matter, Ms. Deetz… It is your daughter's place to decide, not yours." Turning back to Lydia, she added, pointedly, "And it will be a _permanent _address. Keep that in mind."

Lydia didn't answer. Permanent. _Permanent._ There was really only one answer for that, and Juno knew it. No residence in the living world could ever be permanent… And that was the point, wasn't it? To drive home just what in her life was going to last, and what wasn't. Some cruel bit of truth she'd been doing her best to avoid, unto that point.

Barbara and Adam were going to move on. They wouldn't be coming to the Neitherworld. Her parents would die in time, there was no telling what would happen to them. Bertha, Prudence… Everyone she knew in the living world would eventually leave her. Even the house itself couldn't last forever, certainly not in her name. The idea of an eternity, not moving on from the Neitherworld, an _eternity_, had been relatively easy to accept…

It had never occurred to her what that meant of any hold she might want to keep on the living world too.

And there was only one answer. She couldn't always live in the house, or own it… The house wouldn't always even be standing there. The mortal world was, mortal. Passing. She could live there for a while, play the part of a human girl… But she was unaging, immortal, half dead. She'd have, what, a few years, then she'd have to leave.

All roads led back to the Neitherworld.

"With Beetlejuice." She whispered softly, lifting her eyes to the woman, who, oddly, no longer looked vindictive at all. "In the Neitherworld." Her parents didn't react well. She didn't expect them too. But no one else said anything… She'd explain later. "It's just an address on a form, right? It doesn't mean…" But the words caught in her throat, because in the end, it _would_ mean.

She looked at Beetlejuice, to see him, like her parents, a bit perplexed. Like he hadn't worked all the fine print out in the deal yet either. She smiled at him, wanly. Suddenly feeling the full weight of immortality on her shoulders. It wasn't, bad. It was just something she was going to have to get used to.

"But in the meantime," She went on, a little more strongly than she felt, "I'd like to go back with my parents." She looked at Juno again. "So are we done here?"

A few swipes of a pen, in bright red ink. A binding, as easily as the one she'd ever had with Beetlejuice. "We're done." Juno agreed softly, closing the folder with a slow hand, and a significant glance towards the half living girl. "Go on. Spend time with your family."

_Enjoy it while you can_.

Lydia smiled, and assured the woman softly, answering her unspoken words as well, "I will." A few more years. Was that five, ten? It didn't matter. She still had more time with them than she would have, if she'd died in that hospital. No one knew how long they got to stay there, in the living world… The fact that she had some time _left, _to be with her family, was all that mattered. And even goodbye, wouldn't be goodbye… Not yet.

Meanwhile, there was still a lot to think of… Like school. But hell if she was going to worry about that tonight. No, no… That could wait for tomorrow…

Or, whenever.

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	10. Problems Solved?

If the world was the way I wanted it, not only would the _idea_ for Beetlejuice be mine, but so would Beetlejuice himself. That is, alas, not the case. I don't own any of it, not Lyds, not Beej, not the Neitherworld... Basically not anything in these pages that can otherwise be accredited to Tim Burton, and/or the Geffen Film Company. Now, there is some stuff in here that is mine... But you? You're reading this for _Beetlejuice_... And Lydia. And them together. Am I right?

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O.o Am I losing my fanbase? Only one review for the last chapter... And while I appreciate the support of my decision to leave behind me a job that I hated, I would have liked one or even two reviews telling me whether or not the story's still going the way it should...

. Me, soliciting reviews. Normally that's bad enough, but the fact that I honestly need to...

Anyway, this chapter flowed wonderfully for me, for the most part. I hope it's a little more what you've come to expect from me. Consider it a Valentine's tribute to the couple, at least a little... Heh, and a day late.

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Lydia picked through the pile of socks that had inhabited her drawers, unmatched, for as long as she could remember. Fishing through black and grey, and long striped stockings, she found a pair that, upon cursory examination at least, matched, and tucked them together, the way she had when she was very small, and still helped Barb with the laundry.

Low, sweet music played in the background, so completely different from what she usually listened to that it would have given anyone who knew her pause to stop and wonder… Anyone but her husband, who seemed to enjoy the low baritones and sweet sopranos, accompanied by full orchestra. Or rather, at least he wasn't complaining, even if he was drifting in and out of sleep from time to time, while she busied herself other ways.

Truthfully, she didn't remember the last time she'd actually cleaned her room… Or at least, offered more than a quick once over, giving it at least the appearance of having been tidied. Her parents had given up on her long ago, on such matters… Accepting the plain and simple truth that their daughter was a slob.

And the funny thing was, she wasn't, not in most ways at least. At the roadhouse for example, everything had a place, and she took a certain pride in helping to keep it neat, urging Beetlejuice to do the same, which usually resulted in rolled eyes and smirks, but still. It was really just her bedroom she treated this way… It made it more comfortable, familiar somehow. Relaxed.

Which didn't explain why, at nearly twelve o'clock at night, she was sitting on the edge of her bed, folding socks. Largely because everything else in her room had already been tidied spotless.

Beetlejuice opened one eye as the CD ended, again, and his wife got up to restart it, the repeat button being long jammed on the nearly antique music player. He considered the girl at length, weighing whether or not she was going to keep this up all night, and if maybe this was some kind of trick to make him let his guard down, and remind her that she was supposed to be going back to school in the morning. Considering her current agitated state, he wasn't sure he'd be drawing back all his fingers, after that prod.

She was a little more flushed than usual, which he counted as strange, since her normal reaction to lack of sleep was just the opposite. She continually tugged or straightened her hair, and glanced at herself repeatedly in the still present cracked vanity, as if to make certain that somehow, her reflection hadn't changed since the last time she'd looked. And from time to time, she cast a sharp look his way, at which point he always feigned sleep. Badly, since both of them knew he snored.

The expected breaking point didn't come until she reached the last three socks in her pile… And wasn't nearly as explosive as the poltergeist expected. The goth girl just sort of looked down at the three lone socks, without mates… And sighed, balling them up in a careless wad, and despite the last few hours of effort to make certain her room was meticulously clean, throwing them at her door, and leaving them there.

At first she just sat there on the end of their bed, her head bowed a little in thought, then, as he watched, scooted back until she was even with him, and not bothering with blankets, laid down beside the poltergeist, snuggling back a little into his arms.

Still not sure if this meant his chances of being beaned with the nearest available object were past or not, not that the girl could ever really hurt him, Beetlejuice peered at her warily, not sure what the hell had crawled under his babes's skin, but certain of one thing… Somehow, for reasons beyond him, heading back to the living world had just seemed to trade one set of problems for another.

So after about a minute, concern for the girl overcame anything that resembled common sense for the dead man, and he looped an arm around her, giving her a little squeeze, and, giving it little thought, blew on the back of her neck softly, hoping to evoke a reaction.

It was better than he could have expected… She giggled, turned into his embrace, and kissed his chin lightly, making him grin widely, and wonder if maybe this time, he really was making trouble where there wasn't any. Girl was probably just worried about school… Never had liked it, after all. But he knew she was pretty adamant about going back…

"Babes," He drawled, plucking aside individual strands slowly, to move from her face, "You fucking ready to sleep now?"

Her dark eyes blinked up at him, and she leaned her head back a little, exposing the creamy pillar of her throat, before she made a soft sound of denial, shaking her head. "No way in hell." She denied softly, reaching out, and for reasons unexplained, running the fingers of her right hand slowly across her husband's face. "Too much crap to deal with." A pause, and she turned back to him, a little intensely. "Do you know we're going to live _forever_?"

Beetlejuice frowned, a little surprised by the question. Not because it wasn't expected at some point, so much as the fact that he'd thought she would have long since come to terms with something like that. After all, it was kinda obvious, wasn't it?

"Yeah," He prompted, not meaning to sound as indifferent as he ended up sounding, "So?" When he heard himself, his frown deepened though, and he tried again. "You and me, Lyds. Forever, and ever… and fucking _eternity_. That was the deal. You getting cold feet on me now?"

Lydia offered an indelicate snort, squirming a little closer to his side, and tucked her head, which was normally far too short to reach the area, into the groove of his neck. "Idiot." She assured him, easily denying any such thoughts. "It's just…" A vague wave to the side, and above, indicating the resting places of three out of four parents, "They're all gonna… go away."

The poltergeist's lips thinned, just slightly, and for a moment, he said nothing. It'd be easy to say he didn't give a damn either way about when the in-law's moved on… Leaving them with no one to answer to but the old bat, after all, and offering what was likely to be a lot less drama in both their afterlives…

Only, he didn't really feel that way. And not just for Lyds sake. Over the past five or so years of haunting the idiots, in order to be with the girl, he'd actually started to give a damn about them. All of them. Even the bitch.

"Yeah," He agreed softly, "I know." After that, he didn't know what to say, just sort of running his grimy fingers through her long, soft hair, and trying to figure out what he could say to make this easier. "Hell, kid," He tried at last, "Them moving on is still a ways off. I wouldn't worry about it too much yet…"

"But what about me?" Her pretty pink lips curled in a soft, unhappy expression. "I can't stick around with them forever. I've got like, what, seven years, tops, before people figure out I'm not getting older?"

What? He blinked in surprised, then groaned, and dropped his arm across his eyes, trying to figure out how he'd missed this. Hell, mortals aged… And Lyds wouldn't. "Well, fuck." He said at last, matter-of-factly, "What do you want me to say? I guess you'll just have to stay in the goddamn house when you visit!"

"What?" Lydia sounded genuinely surprised, like she hadn't expected that answer.

"Well, yeah…" He peered out from under his arm with a scowl. "It ain't like those Maitland chumps can go traipsing off with you anywhere else, right? So you just come here and do the family thing… Who the fuck cares about the rest of this deader than dead town? You gonna tell me you actually give a damn about the barber, the butcher, and the gas station… whatever?"

He started to gain enthusiasm now, and dropped his arm completely, sitting up a little. "Hell babes, the world's still our goddamn oyster… So what if we can't spend more than a few years in any one place? It's a big fucking planet! Not as big as the Neitherworld, mind you, but…"

Any further rationalizing came to an abrupt close as Lydia's mouth found his, firmly, joyfully, with a little squeal in her throat setting off a delightful hum on his lips. It lasted two, three breaths… And then she broke it, and proceeded to kiss him all over his pale, cool face, fingers squeezed into tight fists on either side of his collar, and all in all acting like he'd unleashed some deep bit of hidden wisdom there, that absolutely thrilled her. "Beetlejuice…!"

Grinning and cackling under her hungry attack, Beetlejuice made feeble feigns to fend her off, certainly making no real attempt to stop her as she proceeded to loosen his tie, strip it from his neck, and shower his throat with a thousand hot, soft little kisses, her quick tongue dancing deftly behind her perfect lips. "Goddamn it, Lyds!" He laughed, encouraging her with little playful tickles under her ribs, "What the hell's gotten into you?"

"Nothing… yet…" She grinned, nipping his ear, and while he watched in bemused delight, began stripping away his jacket and shirt, and began yanking teasingly at his belt. "Goddamn it, do you know how much I needed to hear that? How much…?" She paused now, nipping at his shoulders, squirming under his touch as his game of 'tickling' became more daring, and laughing breathlessly at her game. "Goddamn you, I thought I'd lost-!"

"Forget them, Lyds… How 'bout me?" He growled, catching the back of her neck gently in his wide hand, and pulling her down to his lips… Biting her lower lip, firmly, under his top teeth, before drawing her in harder, savoring the wonderful sweet warmth of her perfect mouth.

It became a race to see who could undress the other more quickly, and then they were wrapped in twisting layers of sheets… Lydia, for the first time in days, maybe more, looking absolutely worry-free… Happy in the moment, and with him. Catching the smoothness of her thigh around his waist, she made a little soft sound of utter contentment, mingled with just a trace of excitement, as he chuckled, trying to move her under him, while she seemed intent to drag their little foreplay session out as long as possible.

In the end, she ended up on top, her body draped along the length of him, her slight frame held easily in the cup of his thick fingered hands as she smirked down at him in something like triumph, as if she'd just won some irrefutable contest of wills between them… A point he was more than willing to let her win, if it led to these sorts of consequences. "Babes," He muttered throatily, "I ever tell you how goddamn beautiful you are?"

"Once or twice," She whispered, her breath falling against his lips, "Tell me again." So he told her again, and again, and again, until she took his breath away… And just when it seemed like she'd finally gotten the best of the smug poltergeist, he suddenly turned the tables again, and with a few deft strokes of his hand, and a nip of his teeth, she melted to a puddle against him.

He chuckled audibly, sweat beading on his pale, cool skin, sliding one arm around her back to pull her closer, harder, and making her moan, seeking her throat, sweet-scented from their lovemaking, and running the tip of his tongue slowly down the groove of it, the cool caress making her shiver, and clutch him more firmly. "Beetlejuice…" She whispered, the name catching in her throat, a term of endearment… A prayer, to always have this with him. Forever.

"Eternity ain't too long for you, is it, babes?" He rasped thickly in her ear, making her shiver against him, again, and make a small sound of denial, before pushing back far enough to find his lips with her own. "You chicks dig that whole happily ever after shit…" He murmured between kisses, "So happily…fucking…ever… after…"

"Happily ever after…" She whispered, giggled under her breath at the corniness of it. "Beej, you are so not a prince charming…"

"Better than a prince charming, babes," He denied easily, playing his fingers tenderly down the bareness of her spine, "I'm _yours_…"

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She slept in. Not long, he wouldn't do that to her, not when he knew so much was at stake for the girl, but he did silence the little alarm clock before it could go off, figuring that if they cheated a little, and used magic, they could still get her to school in plenty of time. Besides, the girl was clearly still tired… She looked more or less exhausted, if happy, sprawled across much of their shared bed, one leg swung over his, her toes, from time to time, curling against him, and sending little shivers down his skin.

For the most part, as he counted the seconds tick by, he stared at the mural she'd finally finished etching across the ceiling… He didn't remember exactly when she'd done that, probably before they'd taken their little hiatus to the land of the dead, but he paid it attention now, wondering idly if it was more than bold black lines, laid across white paint. With his babes, he could never be certain… She had that little bit of a witch in her, after all, completely apart from the juice he'd helped cultivate within her newly immortal shell, and well… He couldn't even begin to figure that kind of magic.

But for the moment at least, it seemed harmless enough… It wasn't shifting under his eyes or anything, and he could follow the pattern of one loop to the next, more or less easily. It didn't seem to be giving off any kind of weird funky juju… So maybe it had simply been something for her to do when she was bored. He still looked at it with a bit of a curious eye…

After about an additional twenty minutes of sleep though, he turned from the strange pattern, and considered his wife, sleeping like, well, the dead, not so much as twitching in her very still slumber, the only sign that she was in fact living, the slow rising and falling of her chest… Which was of course, always fun to watch. "Hey, babes." He nudged her, gently, before reaching out, and with a little twitch of his fingers, tickling the cool digits slowly against her bare side, grinning. "Come on, kiddo… Rise and shine! Wakey wakey, eggs and bakey…"

Lydia opened one eye, looked at him, and frowned, for about three seconds… Before sitting up sharply, suddenly very awake, and more than a little alarmed. "Shit! It's morning!" Cursing quickly under her breath, both at her silent alarm clock, and it seemed, at him as well, she leapt out of bed in one smooth motion, and started quickly towards her wardrobe-

Only to stop, mid-step, finding herself already clad in her usual school uniform, neatly pressed, without a thread out of place. At first she just stared, a little baffled… Then laughed, a sort of soft, relieved sound, and turned back to her husband with an accusing eye, though she looked anything but upset with him. "We're cheating?" She teased, moving slowly back to the bed with him, where he slid a possessive arm around her waist, and looked up at her smugly.

"Damn right, we're cheating, babes." He agreed, like this was a given. "Since when do I ever play by the fucking rules?" He grabbed her, carelessly, by a lock of hair, and pulled her gently down to his waiting lips, tasting the wonderful, sensual taste of her mouth, before letting her go with a little wink. "Come on doll, you go get breakfast, then let's you and I make a little scene!"

Lydia drew away from him, smirking. "For the school, or for my parents?" She teased, drawing her fingers slowly down his arm, until she evoked a growl from him, and an answering slide of his fingertips across her thigh, making her heat, and, regretfully, draw away.

Either Beetlejuice wasn't as affected as she was, or he was better at controlling it… A distinct possibility, considering the several months she'd made him wait for any such reaction, early in their romantic relationship, but he just sort of laid back, stretched slowly, scratched his chest, and considered her with a surprisingly composed expression. "Eh, I figure we've given the in-law's enough stress for a couple days." He muttered, answering her earlier question… And showing a surprising amount of restraint, considering how much he liked to make trouble. "Besides, that shit always just seems to bite you in the ass, babes… I'm tired of them making your afterlife hell, you know?"

A little surprised at this unexpected bit of insight on the poltergeist's part, Lydia raised one eyebrow, then smiled, and leaned down of her own accord this time, kissing him lightly between the eyes. "Goddamn it, you are paying attention." She whispered, before drawing away, and starting towards the door, ready to go venture out into the world again, after her long break away…

Before turning back, and regarding him quizzically. "You coming?"

"Nah…" He drawled, inspecting his fingernail, and to all appearances, pretending that the decision to avoid her parents had absolutely nothing to do with an attempt to make peace for the girl, "That damn broad can't cook for shit. I'll pick something up later."

It was a lie of course, they both knew he liked Barbara's cooking just fine, even if he never did give her anything but shit for it. But considering that his current impulse not to make trouble was a rare one, she decided to let it go, and enjoy the mood while it lasted. "Just don't you go getting soft on me forever, Beej…" She murmured under her breath, closing the door behind her, and bracing herself, at least a little, to face her parents.

The scene that greeted her was almost familiar, as she walked into the kitchen… Sure, her father wasn't there, and her mother was still in her pajamas, rather than dressed for work already… But there was Barbara, standing at the stove, the sound of a popping pan reassuring to her empty stomach, and there was Adam, with his heavy mug of coffee, and the obituaries in on hand, glasses settled sort of on the tip of his nose, as they were when he was reading small print…

Barbara lifted her head as Lydia stood there, briefly, and took in what seemed so normal that it almost wasn't now, and smiled, brown eyes gentle, and a little relieved, to see her daughter still with them. "Good morning, Lydia." She greeted the girl, waved her spatula with a little wink. "I've got sausage, eggs, and bacon here… I hope you're hungry!"

It was such an entirely unstrained greeting, that it set Lydia momentarily off her step… And her mind remember, warily, that her foster parents had already 'accepted' things, once before. Still, no use making trouble where there wasn't any… "Very hungry." She assured the woman, nothing short of true, and particularly hungry, after her weeklong stint in the Neitherworld, for living world food. "Mm…" A deep breath, almost against her will, as she took in the heady aroma appreciatively. "That's smells awesome."

"Yes, it does." Adam agreed matter-of-factly, setting down the paper, and greeted his wife with a small, somewhat tired smile. "Barbara, if I haven't told you a thousand times already, your cooking could wake the dead."

"Hmm, yes, well." She dropped a heavy laden plate in front of him, and a kiss lightly on his forehead, and noted, "I still say you're biased." Wiping her hands off on her apron, she turned to Lydia, silent for a moment, before asking, "And… Beetlejuice. Still sleeping, I suppose?"

"No," Lydia answered honestly, taking her plate from the air as it spiraled towards her, apparently unassisted. "He woke up before I did… That's why I slept in. Some ghost decided to turn off my clock." She took up a forkful of eggs, shoving them in her mouth, in a most unladylike manner, suddenly eager to devour just as much of the wonderful smelling cooking as she could, adding, with a full mouth, "But he cheated, and got me ready faster than I could, so…" A helpless gesture, indicating how she really couldn't be mad at him.

"Hmm, well, in this case, I have to agree with him." Adam admitted, a little reluctantly, as if agreeing with the poltergeist somehow indicated his approval for her being with him in the first place. "I know damn well you didn't get much sleep last time, I heard your music playing until well after midnight… And no, you didn't keep me up," He added, rather pointedly, aiming his fork in her direction, "I was just worried about you."

"I think we all are…" Barbara noted under her breath, finally taking her own seat, and pouring herself a tall glass of juice, "But there's not much we can do about it anymore. You're determined to live your own life, regardless of what we think… God only knows that I wish I'd known you'd take after us so much."

The little snippet of a blessing surprised Lydia speechless, and she looked up from her meal, mouth still half full of various meats, eggs, and cheeses, and just stared for a moment, before swallowing, and nodding. Barbara smiled at her, a bit ruefully, "Remind me to tell you about my parents some time…" She suggested, before finally turning into her own meal, and not oddly, saying nothing more on the matter.

For that matter, Lydia didn't think that Barb had ever mentioned her other family before…

Wiping the corner of her mouth on a napkin, Lydia cast a quick glance towards her mother, taking in the sort of tired, vacant look to her expression, as she moved her eggs around on the plate with a fork, not eating more than a bite or two here and there. For a minute, she considered just leaving well enough alone- Her mother _was_ the only one who hadn't said a word to her yet to indicate her own mood this morning- Then shrugged, and as she often did, went against her own better instincts. "You okay, mom?"

Olivia blinked, and looked up, her eyes taking a moment to focus… And then she smiled, wanly. "I thought that since I'm not working, I might as well use the time to give up a bad habit or two, before my unemployment dries up." She gestured in Adam's direction, listlessly, explaining with a somewhat terse voice, "I'm giving up coffee. And god help me, I feel like I have sand in my brain."

"I don't see the problem with coffee." Adam muttered, lifting his own cup, and sipping at it, as he turned back to his paper. "God knows I never gave it up."

"Well, I think it's a good idea." Barbara murmured, methodically cutting her eggs this way and that before she took her first bite, then adding, "You have enough on your nerves as it is, Olivia. Coffee's never done anything but agitate you. Some of us," She added, with a glance towards her husband, "Should consider giving it up for a while too, so the transition will be easier for you…"

"That's not necessary." Olivia denied, staring at her plate like she really had no appetite at all. "And before I forget, I'm going out later today. I have some… Things I need to take care of, over lunch."

Lydia cast a curious look in her mother's direction, but decided that after all the secrets she'd kept over the years, she really had no room left to pry into her mother's. "All right." She agreed, as if somehow she was the one that needed to give her mother permission here. "But you guys, can I ask you something?"

Adam didn't so much as look up from his paper. "If it's about Beetlejuice," He noted, his tone just a little sour now, talking about the poltergeist, "I'd say we've resolved all that already, haven't we?"

"I don't know," Lydia admitted quietly, after a small pause, "I thought we had before too. I seem to remember that kind of blowing up in my face."

"Yes, well," Her foster father looked up, a little grimly, but not overly upset that she could see, "I'd say you've since made your point, Lydia. _We_ have no choice in the matter, and we're just going to have to get used to it. That being said…" He looked at her, a little sternly, over his glasses, "There are a few different points of your relationship with that man, that I'd rather you not make a point of rubbing in our faces."

Denial? That worked just fine for her. "I think I can guess them." She assured the man, a little dryly. "I can't speak for him, but I'll see what I can do. Just try to knock next time you plan on barging into our room, and that'll solve half the problem right there."

Adam made a sort of choking sound of denial in his throat, before clearing it, nodding, and pointedly not saying any more. And that, for that, seemed to be the end of it… For the moment anyway.

Of course it couldn't last, and no sooner had the last mouthful passed her lips, than Beetlejuice, by whatever means he was keeping an eye on her without her sensing him, popped into the visible spectrum with a grin, long coat hanging around his calves, hat perched cockily on his head, looking pleased as shit with himself. "Hey babes, better get going… Don't wanna be late for that piece of shit school of yours!"

This made Olivia's eyes clear enough to look up at him with a frown, for the moment too tired to be overly intimidated. "_That_," She stressed pointedly, is a very good school."

"Yeah, whatever…" He dismissed her words without so much as looking in her direction, shrugging a little more snuggly into his coat. "So you ready to go, Lyds, or what?"

Lydia grabbed her orange juice, what was left of it, and chugged it down in three swallows, quickly scooping the whole mess up, and spinning it, via her own juice, towards the sink, leaving her parents momentarily stunned into silence. That couldn't last however, as she moved quickly towards her husband, eager for the chance to walk part way with him, and put off facing the school _just_ a little longer…

"You _do_ have other clothes, don't you?" She heard Adam mutter, just before they disappeared back through the door… To be answered, without a word, by the poltergeist flipping the other dead man off, the two of them gone before he could put another word in edgewise.

"He has a point," Lydia noted, once they hit the cool spring air, the smell of frost still more a threat than a warning in the northern Connecticut town, "You have pretty much worn the same three outfits since I've known you. Are you trying to make a fashion statement?" It was all in good humor, of course, as she leaned into his arm, as much as anything to be out of the wind. "Because I think 'dead' is a bad statement to make, you being alive now, and all…"

"No sense messing with a good thing, babes." Beetlejuice denied flippantly, licking his palm, and slicking his hair back with the wet hand, giving her a sly wink. "You know I'm damn sexy, Lyds. Don't be acting all coy, or some shit." With a little squeeze of her arm, he added, confidently, "_You _know you love me."

Lydia smiled, laughing under her breath. "Yeah Beej," She agreed, more or less humorously, "I think just about everyone knows that now…"

"Damn straight." He agreed, cockily, "Me and my babes… Watch fucking out."

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	11. A Different Sort of Pride

If the world was the way I wanted it, not only would the _idea_ for Beetlejuice be mine, but so would Beetlejuice himself. That is, alas, not the case. I don't own any of it, not Lyds, not Beej, not the Neitherworld... Basically not anything in these pages that can otherwise be accredited to Tim Burton, and/or the Geffen Film Company. Now, there is some stuff in here that is mine... But you? You're reading this for _Beetlejuice_... And Lydia. And them together. Am I right?

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So, Lydia and I pretty much figured out the point to the first part of this chapter at the same time... Proof yet again, that I live my life through my writing. Otherwise I wouldn't figure out half the stuff I had. I just couldn't write my way out of it... Betcha Beej is gonna be anything but pleased.

So I got reviews, hella reviews, from the sentence long to the page long, and I gotta tell you, my heart has had wings for the past few days. Corny, right? Yeah, I know. But if I don't have my writing, I'm just not happy, and well... This is the third chapter in a week and a half, so I'm real happy. What can I say? I'm gonna put this up, then go answer my reviews... Yeah, i know that's backwards, but I just wanted to start this chapter so much! Heh, then again, that is how it usually is...

That being said, I was all kinds of stuck on how to end this chapter, I must have rewritten it like seven times, or something. I finally got something I like, even if it is all sappy sweet, but hell, we all need a little of that, right? My current worries are on the next chapter... Once again, I've got some of the epilogue already worked out in my head, but it's the chapter between the that one and this one that's bugging me. Not that I don't know what I want it to be about... Just not sure how to work it in there. Oh well.

Still a good day...

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Lydia was almost disappointed when Beetlejuice didn't make good on his threat to cause a 'scene' at the uptight girl's school when they arrived… As much as anything, because not making a scene, guaranteed that she _was_ the scene. And Beetlejuice, as always, oblivious to the stares of disapproval, giving her the idea somehow that she should be too… Like acknowledging other people's petty discriminations should somehow be beneath her, since he didn't care either way.

So she did her best to pretend that no one, students or teachers, was casting them dirty looks, or laughing quietly between themselves… Or just looking on with such _fascination_, as if the two of them were just so _odd_. And it felt like tiny prickles of heat danced up and down her arms, like hives or something…

Beetlejuice of course, never as indifferent to the world as he let on, _did _in fact notice, and was silently stewing over the way it made his girl squirm, being under so many eyes. Sure, he pretended it didn't bother him, because he didn't _want_ it to bother _her_… And some kind of awkward, embarrassed shit was the last thing he was feeling. No, he was pissed, plain and simple. Beetlejuice was not the kind of guy who ever got embarrassed… He was an exhibitionist, through and through.

Which meant, above all else, that he knew how to put on a show. Picking out the girl was easy, just another Claire-wannabe, as he thought of them now, any one of a mostly indistinguishable group that seemed to think they ran the school, years after the original had gone… And who, apparently, hadn't learned from the lessons he'd offered the first.

Surreptitiously, he dug with his free hand in his pocket, looking for the right little 'game' to offer, even if it would only take the weight off his babes for a couple hours at best… But it was his job to look out for the kid, always had been. And hell, a couple hours with the peanut gallery pointing and laughing at someone else for a change had to help!

His fingers twined across something cool, smooth, and scaly, one of many unnamed creatures who'd inhabited his pockets so long, he figured they were probably breeding in there, and his lips curled at the edges in a little smile. "That'll do…" He muttered to no one at all, sending his little 'present' off with a flick of his fingers…

The girl stopped in mid-step, looking above all else, confused, and tugging at her short plaid skirt, like she suddenly had her pantyhose in a bunch or something… Then she started screaming, and to Beetlejuice's further amusement, went past everything he could have hoped for, and started stripping her clothes off there in the schoolyard for all to see…

Beetlejuice whistled, briefly, not one to avert his eyes from a good show, only to be elbowed, rather sharply, by his wife. _Now_ he averted his eyes, if only to glance in her direction with a little sneer. "Hell, you'd think the bitch never had a snake up her skirt before!" He cackled evilly, giving his girl a little squeeze, while she seemed torn between giving him a dirty look, and laughing herself.

"Beej," She protested softly, digging her fingers just a _little_ firmly into his forearm, "Do you even know who that girl is?"

He glanced back at her, now wailing and gathering her clothes, blushing from head to toe as she ran out of sight, bare ass to the sharp spring wind. "Nope." He grunted, not really caring either way. "Hey, babes, how 'bout a goodbye kiss… Don't think they're looking at _us _anymore…"

Lydia sighed, but stood up on her tiptoes obligingly, while he ducked down to press his lips firmly against her, giving her ass a good, solid squeeze while he was at it, figuring a chance for that kind of public display, without consequences, might not come around again. "You have a _real_ good day…" He murmured thickly in her ear, before straightening up, and looking, for him, as innocent as possible. "What's say I pick you up in, oh, seven hours?"

"I can walk home by myself," Lydia assured him, a little dryly, if still smiling, "But you always do make things more fun. Seven hours then. Try not to kill anyone in the meantime."

Beetlejuice gave her a sly, sideways look. "That my only limitation, babes?" He prodded, silkily.

"Sure," Lydia agreed, feeling reckless, "But if you do cause some severe shit, I wanna hear about it when I get home. It's no fair, me missing out on all the fun." She pinched his side, playfully, and turned her back on him, walking forward through the schoolyard, which indeed, had something more interesting to talk about now than her and her husband… However long that would last.

"Asshole," She muttered under her breath, not really annoyed with the poltergeist, so much as feeling a little guilty that she _wasn't_ annoyed with him, "Doesn't give a damn about anyone but… Well, me." She decided to look in on the traumatized girl, who after all, wasn't the worst of her group, or anything…

But when she actually got into the school, she found the girl already surrounded by teachers and students, the rather unmistakable Miss Shannon among them, and wisely decided to steer clear. Anyway, anything she offered at this point would probably do more harm than good… What was she supposed to say… _Sorry, it was just my dead husband's way of getting the spotlight off me for a while_?

Shrugging, she told herself that she probably shouldn't care either way… Even if the girl wasn't the worst of her group, she was no friend of hers, and had in fact taken pains to make that point more than once.

Whatever. She was gonna have to face Miss Shannon soon herself, and there was no point drumming up more drama there than there had to be. She didn't know which unlucky fate she'd pissed off, to get stuck with the woman _every year_ of high school…

The first bell rang as she stepped into class, only to find her usual seat conspicuously filled. She was forced to commandeer a rickety looking thing in the back of the class, sound enough to sit in, but clearly well past its prime. Never daunted, Lydia just smirked, pulled out her sharpie, and proceeded to make the surface of the desk a little more… Homey.

Soon, the last bell rang, and for once, it was the teacher who barely made it in the room on time, after the fiasco outside. Lydia quickly palmed her pen, it was one of the small ones, and did her best to look innocent… Her series of swirls of doodles across the scuffed wood far from finished. Attendance was called, and naturally, her last name still ending in Deetz as far as the school records were concerned, she was one of the first called…

The teacher started to mark her absent without waiting for an answer, and when Lydia quickly spoke up, indicating that she was, in fact, there, the petite grey haired woman looked up with a little frown… As if it was somehow more disappointing, after her long hiatus, for her to actually be there, than not. Indeed, the extent of her reaction, other than this, was to lift the pen she'd used for marking off the names, and point towards the door, uttering simply, "I assume you know the way, Miss Deetz."

"Deetz-_Juice_." Lydia muttered under her breath, unconsciously imitating her husband's habit of correcting people when they called her that. "Goddamnit, not here two minutes, and I'm already being sent to that woman's office…" That woman of course, being her vice principal, as well as the teacher of at least half her classes every year… Little wonder she could never escape the woman.

She ran her fingers carelessly through her hair as she walked, peering into various classrooms that she passed, and more or less taking her time… In no hurry to deal with the woman who had, after all, betrayed her relationship to Beetlejuice to her mother, only a few months before…

_Well, that's a bonus, isn't it?_ She reflected suddenly, cheering considerably. _Can't wait to see the look on her face when he's brought up…_ She was quite certain that Miss Shannon _knew_ that she was married now, but this did offer a sort of priceless opportunity to rub it in a bit… Dealing with the old prude had to offer some benefits, after all.

Unable to resist a little grin as she knocked on the woman's classroom, she reflected, briefly, that Beetlejuice really was a bad influence on her… Only to be greeted by a terse, '_Come in!_,' that set her teeth into a slightly more feral look of greeting, though she did her best to disguise it quickly, as a genuine smile.

Miss Shannon looked up as she entered the room, narrowed her eyes, and Lydia swore, an actual sense of distaste quickly encompassed the entire room. "Miss… Deetz." The woman noted, with just a trace of the tension she felt towards the girl. "I see you're back… Just in time not to get expelled."

"Well," She waved at one of the seats in the first row, never mind that they were all currently occupied by the class she was teaching, a mismatched management system if Lydia had ever seen one, "Do have a seat… This should prove entertaining."

Lydia, bad girl reputation that she had, had little trouble securing a seat… If only because several other students quickly decided to vacate theirs for one in the back, as she approached. "Yeah, all right." She agreed, grabbing the one closest to the dreaded woman, and claiming as much of the seat and desk as possible, slouching over it. "So where do we start?"

"I expect you have a note, explaining your absence…?" Miss Shannon prompted, curling her fingers into tight, disapproving fists, on the surface of her desk… Not even bothering to feign a smile.

This was too much to resist. "No, sorry." She denied, letting her hair fall over one eye, in that defiant way she'd never grown out of. "I can get one for you tomorrow though… It's okay if it's from my husband, right?" A slight, nervous titter from the class, making her smile broaden. "Because, you know, he'd sign pretty much anything I asked him to…"

"From your _parents_." Miss Shannon denied, a little sharply. "And I suggest you not overstep your boundaries, Miss Deetz… You're already on very thin ice." A pause. "Am I to take it that you don't have such a note then?"

"You do realize they're not my legal guardians anymore, right?" Lydia pressed, sort of off-handedly. "I mean, that _has_ occurred to you, right?" A similar pause, before, even more nonchalantly, "And it's _Mrs._, actually. _Mrs._ Deetz-Juice. I kept part of my father's name."

Miss Shannon gave her, quite possibly, the dirtiest look that the older woman had ever summoned… One that clearly said what she thought of 'that sort of girl' even attending her school… But cleared her throat, adjusted the various items on her desk for a moment, and then noted, in sort of a strained tone, "I shall try to make note of that."

"I mean," Lydia went on, now that she'd scored her first point, "It's not like the school has some sort of legitimate policy concerning who or when its students want to marry…"

"Not… written, no." The teacher corrected with a sort of quiet indignity. "But then, it has never _had_ to be written before. Be certain, I'm working on having that particular item revised, _personally_. In the meantime," Appearing to have gathered her wits under her again, she noted, almost maliciously, "I take it to mean that you _don't_ have a note then, from an accepted guardian, excusing your absence?"

"Well," Lydia smiled, absolutely the sweetest smile she could summon, and noted, matter-of-factly, "Since I'm my own guardian now, I suppose I could write you one up real quick, right now…"

A little, outraged sound escaped the teacher's throat, rather like a small snarl, quite startling from the rather proper and restrained older woman, as she noted, coldly, "I will _not_ have this school's policy's made a mockery of, Miss- _Mrs. Deetz-Juice!_ Am I understood?" A long, flat glare, which Lydia met easily, before smiling, and averting her gaze, almost dismissively.

"Sure," She agreed, as informally as possible, "I understand." …Still smiling, of course… "Now, where does that leave the whole note deal?"

A long, slow intake of breath, "As it seems you are your own guardian, in point of fact, all I have left as recourse, is to ask if you have a note from the patronage responsible for paying your tuition. You are still, I believe, responsible for answering to _them_."

The alarm prickling the base of Lydia's neck didn't even really have the chance to form… She straightened, not quite looking at the woman, and mused, "I… think that's Beej, technically. He gave mom a few thousand dollars the other week, to take care of our half of things… I think that counts." She was not backing down, she was not. She would _not_ be intimidated by this woman. "So the note should be from him, then?"

A moment of silence, where the teacher just looked at her… Then, oddly, looked around at the rest of the class that wasn't Lydia's, as if estimating just how much ground she was currently losing in her other students' eyes. The tactic that was supposed to humiliate Lydia, and make her shrink into herself with shame and public scrutiny, currently backfiring, as they listened on, looking more amused by the moment, and taking less pains to hide it.

"The payment still comes in your parents' name." Miss Shannon clarified at last, sharply, as she turned back to Lydia. "For all your artful dodging, deny _that_."

And of course, there was no denying _that_… "So it makes sense that I should answer to them, for my missing school." She agreed, finally tiring of this game, "But their name on my tuition bill doesn't make them legally responsible for me. If you want me to change it, I'll take their name off right now, and put my own there. Then we don't have to worry about them answering for anyone at all… I'll answer for myself."

"You aren't old enough." Miss Shannon dismissed, as if for the sake of a few months, this was clearly out of the question. "Why don't you try answering to that husband of yours, instead?"

Something snapped in Lydia… And that wasn't nearly as harmless a thing as it had once been. The room around her shifted, sharply, and without any obvious indication how, as the desks around her suddenly seemed to see fit to slide _far_ away from her, the students trapped inside them falling to the ground as they tried to escape the possessed furniture. Lights flickered, and popped, leaving them in a low, muted sense of shade, as Lydia, teeth clenched, didn't say a word. It wasn't like she hadn't suggested, twice now, getting the note from the man… But the idea that she had to _answer_ to _anyone_…!

She closed her eyes, tightly, and took a deep breath, ignoring Miss Shannon's burst of anger over the 'display' the students had caused, not seeming to find it at all odd to have coincided with the loss of florescent light… Far too centered in the 'real world,' to ever consider that they might have a similar cause, much less that it might be Lydia, who hadn't so much as moved from her seat.

No, she didn't want to answer to anybody… But she had no _choice_. Not so long as she still had teachers, and- And she wanted to finish school. And she wanted to finish at _this_ school. If only to say she'd done it. That she hadn't failed, or quit, or been kicked out… That she'd _beaten_ them, at their own game.

And that meant that, at the moment, pride could only get in the way… And that sometimes, being a proud person meant owning up to her own bullshit. She was _not_ going to get out of this unscathed.

"All right," She agreed softly, opening her eyes again, resigned that punishment would be forthcoming, but determined to greet it on her own terms, "So I don't have a note. And I'm not _going_ to have a note." Miss Shannon stopped, abruptly, in her scolding of the other students, and regarded the girl warily. "I was out of town, and I have no legitimate excuse, and I'm not going to pretend that I don't have to answer for it."

She looked up, grim, but meeting Miss Shannon's gaze flatly. "So what is it? Detention? Suspension? A twenty page essay? Restriction from school events? All of the above?"

For a moment Miss Shannon just stared at her, as if not willing to believe that the girl was actually owning up to what she'd done wrong, and willing to take responsibility for it. "Detention," She said slowly, retaking her place at her desk, and clearly still wary of tricks, "Every day for two weeks. After school, for two hours." A pause, almost to weigh her reaction, or in this case, lack of one, before going on. "You will be writing a different essay every day, ten pages long, in addition to the work you will be making up. If you don't find these terms acceptable…"

"It's fine." Lydia denied, sitting back slowly in her chair, grudgingly accepting that the next two weeks were going to be the longest of her life. "But my husband's picking me up in seven hours or so… So if you don't want him hanging around until my sentence is over for the day, we should probably start tomorrow."

Miss Shannon considered her for a long, weighing moment, before nodding. "Agreed." She said simply, with an expression that said she knew damn well she was getting off in a better position than either of them had expected from the confrontation. "I _can _respond to civilized reason, Mrs. Juice." Lydia almost smiled, at this new mispronunciation of her name. After a pause, the older woman added, almost grudgingly herself, "There may… be some hope for you, yet. Now return to class."

Standing slowly, Lydia was forced to give the woman a look of grudging respect, before emerging back out into the hall, ready indeed, to return to her own class. "Can't win them all, Lyds…" She muttered to herself, sweeping a handful of hair from her face, and regarding her own reflection in the passing trophy case. Goddamnit, Beej was going to blow a gasket… He didn't like giving up any of her time as it was.

Oh well. Principals, vice and otherwise, now… Poltergeists later.

----------------

The last bell rang, and with it came a sort of collective sigh of relief, actually offered and not, from the entire school body. Lydia, on the other hand, just grimaced as she collected her belongings, for once not eager to face what came next… And willing to put it off for at least a while. Somehow, she had to convince her husband _not_ to blow up half the school to get her out of detention… She felt oddly mature for having taken responsibility for her own actions, rather than shrinking out of them, but she didn't expect him to understand that.

Her backpack swung over one shoulder though, emerging into the school yard, her immediate obstacle wasn't dealing with her husband… It was a rather large group of students, and not just the ones bearing an eerie resemblance to magazine cutouts, either, apparently waiting for her… Or so she'd guess from the way they immediately stopped talking, and gave her dirty looks.

"Hey, guys…" Lydia greeted them cautiously, Juniors and Seniors, every one. "What's chapping your drawers?" Probably, in retrospect, not the best way to initiate conversation… Though she supposed that she could have done worse, actually asking what had crawled up their skirts, or something…

The group just gave her a sort of collective look of scorn, turned their backs on her, and walked away. "Oh no…" Lydia muttered under her breath, the corner of her mouth curled in something like amusement, "The silent treatment. I'm now actively disliked by several people I couldn't give a damn about if I tried. Woe is me, what am I to do…?"

Beetlejuice wasn't there yet, she wasn't sure if this was surprising or not, so she headed out to one of the cast iron benches under the old willow trees, and sat down, claiming as much of the bench as possible… A trick she'd learned from her husband. _Mine. All mine. No, you go sit somewhere else. I don't want to share with you. This is mine_.

And she watched the school ground from her 'throne,' wondering, briefly, if she just wanted to see her education through for the sake of sheer stubbornness, or whether she thought the place actually still had something to offer her. What the hell was she going to do half this shit in the Neitherworld?

So she was stubborn, was that surprising? Her mom and dad were two of the most stubborn people in the world, she had to take after them at least a little. And then there was Beetlejuice. _He_ was in a whole 'nother class of stubborn. And it wasn't like he hadn't had any influence on her over the years…

_But there's a time and place to make peace, too… _she thought with a little frown, squinting against the sky. Her parents proved that more than anyone she'd ever known. It was hard to believe that a few years ago had had them so in love…

"Hey, babes?" She blinked, and turned slightly to the side, where a semi-tall figure with a reproving grin greeted her, doing his best to look scornful. "What the hell, you can't hear now, or something? I called you seven goddamn times!"

Lydia smirked. "Hey, Beej." She greeted him, getting to her feet, and pointedly, offering him her backpack. He just stared at it for a minute, his lips peeled back in a 'you gotta be kidding me' expression… Before, with a grunt, he took the thing from her grudgingly, and swung it over his shoulder. Compromise, she figured. That was what it was all about. She and Beej would never end up like her parents.

"So, how's your day, babes?" He prompted, throwing his other arm over her shoulder, and sneering, pointedly, at some of the students who had lingered behind, now giving them long, judging looks. "Have to hurt anyone? Threaten anyone? Send anyone to sandworm land?"

The goth girl chuckled, wondering how she was going to explain what she'd actually had to do, to the rather un-law-abiding poltergeist. "I got detention." She denied easily, deciding to avoid the exact details of the punishment until later. "Starting tomorrow."

"Huh." He cast her a glance, then, with a serious expression, waggled his eyebrows playfully at her. "Want me to take care of it? 'Cause you know I will, Lyds…"

"My knight in grimy armor." She snorted, rather indelicately. "Shit, Beej. I can _handle_ school. When we have to deal with demons and sandworms, _then_ you can save my sorry ass."

"Huh, babes, I gotta tell you…" He noted, still ever so seriously, "You got anything but a sorry ass. You got a real nice- Hey, what the hell you looking at?" This latter part directed at one of the teachers, who had made the unfortunate decision of walking along the same sidewalk they were, and not taking any pains to disguise how inappropriate she thought their conversation was. "You got a problem, you goddamn frigid forty year old biddy? I didn't _think_ so!"

Lydia smirked, looping her arm through her husband's, and proceeding to drag him across the street, while he continued to yell obscenities at the quickly hurrying woman, until she was lost to sight. Lydia waited until she was gone, grateful she didn't have the teacher for any of her classes anymore, then noted, in a sort of mild humor, "And what have we learned today, Beetlejuice?" Like it was some kind of Saturday Morning Special, or something…

The poltergeist glanced at the girl, sort of sideways. "Sorry, Lyds." He grunted at last, looking rather unworried. "Was I supposed to be learning something here? I was busy screwing with that old broad's head… Gimme the short version, okay?"

"Something about your bullshit always coming back to bite me in the ass…" Lydia assured him, a little dismissively, "Don't worry, I didn't expect it to actually sink in."

Beetlejuice just smirked at her, like he knew she could handle it, and gave her a little, possessive squeeze. "Babes…" He drawled, matter-of-factly, "If my bullshit is the worst thing you gotta worry about, I'd say we're fucking moving up in the world." And he dropped a little kiss on top of her head, before adding, "Hey, Lyds… Not that I got a problem with you doing the family thing, and the school thing… But we're still gonna have time to raise a little hell, right?"

She couldn't help it, it wasn't often Beetlejuice showed anything near a vulnerable side to her, and he just looked, kind of worried… She slid her hand in his, gave it a little squeeze, and noted, softly, "Beej, you know damn well that it's the rest of the worlds I have to make time for… _You're _easy."

"Damn straight." He grinned, rubbing his chin a little, as he cast a 'discreet' glance at his babes. "You're the one I had to fucking work for. All that, '_I ain't ready_' shit…"

She shook her finger at him, like she was scolding a small puppy. "You watch it, dead man. There's some parts of this marriage stuff you still gotta work for. It's not all a given, you-" She paused, somewhat fascinated, as he caught her hand, took her finger, and shoved it in his mouth, chewing on the digit gently with his back teeth. Utterly disregarding what she was saying.

"Idiot." She muttered after a moment, pulling her hand free, and giving the poltergeist a little shove. She wasn't really annoyed though… As Beetlejuice had long since learned, not much he did could actually irritate the girl… It was just one of those give and take things. "You're just lucky I love you."

She moved past him at that, expecting him to follow, so she didn't notice the brief, serious look on the poltergeist's face… or the words he offered, never intending her to hear.

"You know it, kiddo…"

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	12. Resolution, More or Less

If the world was the way I wanted it, not only would the _idea_ for Beetlejuice be mine, but so would Beetlejuice himself. That is, alas, not the case. I don't own any of it, not Lyds, not Beej, not the Neitherworld... Basically not anything in these pages that can otherwise be accredited to Tim Burton, and/or the Geffen Film Company. Now, there is some stuff in here that is mine... But you? You're reading this for _Beetlejuice_... And Lydia. And them together. Am I right?

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Just so you know from the beginning, this chapter is not a broaching into how Olivia and Edmond are going to react to each other from now on... Or rather it is, but that's all it is. The question. I have no intention of answering it, at least not in this fic. Maybe ever.

Things change. As Beetlejuice would say... Screw _normal_.

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She was having a nightmare… She couldn't remember exactly how it had happened, but the gist of it was this… She was twelve years old again, trying to convince Beetlejuice that she should actually be much older, and that they were _married_, and the ghost with the most was laughing his ass off, not believing a word of it.

How she'd gone back in time, because clearly this was what she'd done, was a complete mystery, and quite frankly, one she didn't give much of a damn about. She was more concerned about putting things right, since more than anything, she wanted back the life she'd already had…

Unfortunately, her end all and be all idea of how to make that work, was to kiss the surprised poltergeist, like she had when she was older, and… Well, that didn't go over very well.

She woke up, still feeling incredibly frustrated, and took a long moment to examine her hands and arms, and the fact that yes, she had boobs, before turning to the slumbering Beetlejuice, satisfying herself that, yes, he was right where he was supposed to be. Yes, she was grown. It was all a dream. She just hadn't known it was a dream. And that pissed her off to no end.

Managing to refrain from punching her stubborn, still sleeping lover, she pulled the covers off, still irritable, and swung her legs over the side of the bed, making a face at the shadows. Damn it… Why the hell would she have a dream like that, anyway? But there was only one thing to be done for it, after all… Barb had taught her that.

She needed some hot chocolate.

Lydia didn't bother turning on any lights… She'd lived in that house all her life, and knew every step of it now by heart. And since Barb went to such pains to keep everything in its place, there wasn't any risk of tripping over clutter… Truth be told, she liked finding her way in the dark. Not just because she could, but… Well, because her mind was flooded by enough images during the day, and at night, it was just nice to let it rest. Not think of anything, but the hot cocoa she would soon make.

By the time she'd gotten halfway down the stairs though, the rich smell of sweet steam quickly told her that someone else had already had much the same idea she had… She wondered if it was Barbara or her mother. Adam had always preferred coffee, or straight warm milk, with sugar, so it probably wasn't him. And she _hoped_ it wasn't her mother. She was just so miserable lately…

Come to think of it, did she really want to be dragged into a late night conversation with either of the two female authority figures in her life? Insofar as she'd ever worried about authority, anyway… She thought about turning around, going back upstairs, and going to sleep without any help, but quickly nixed that idea. She wasn't supposed to be running from her problems anymore… Or her family. So whoever was in that kitchen, she made up her mind to-

She stopped, quite sharply, in her tracks, as the low light in the kitchen cast its light on those at the table. Her mother and… her father. The last people she expected to see sitting around their kitchen table in the middle of the night.

Fortunately, her bare feet hadn't made any sound on the solid wooden floor, so after a brief moment to compose herself, she took a quick step back, well out of any fear of being seen, and considered the two of them there. Talking. Not laughing, or touching hands, or leaning in to each other the way they once had… But quietly, without animosity… Like two old friends.

Wondering vaguely when this had happened, Lydia's next thought, naturally, was whether or not she could get closer, and find out what they were saying… Immediately followed by a flush of embarrassment, at the realization that she wanted to take away from her parents, the same privacy she expected them to offer so easily to her.

Still. Maybe just a little.

Getting down on her hands and knees, she leaned into the wall just past the door, no longer looking directly at their shapes, outlined by candlelight, but _listening_. If her parents were on friendly terms again, that was great. She just wanted to know _how_.

At first, neither one of them said anything… Nothing she could make out, anyway. Just sort of quite mumbles, leaving her cursing her miserable human ears, and wishing she could pull some shit like Beej, and make them bigger. All right, so what secrets were those two keeping…? Finally a few words started to make sense to her… Her mother's, first. "-thinking about what you said. About her being happy."

"And?" Her father pressed quietly, his voice, while bereft of bitterness or accusation, not exactly open either. "She _is _happy, Olivia."

"I know." Her mother sounded a bit flustered. "With _him_. I can't believe it. But she is." A small pause, as if she still couldn't quite accept this yet… Before she made a small, frustrated, sad sound, reflecting angrily, "I don't understand it! How can those two be happy, and…!"

"And we're not?" The question, though it should have been obvious, surprised Lydia more than a little, making her press more closely to the wall, in hopes of picking up some more little details. Some nuance to their voices, something! "Honestly Liv, I think it didn't work for us, because it was always too easy. We never got past our honeymoon phase, even after Lydia was born. We just sort of sidestepped everything." A pause, before, quietly, he admitted, "I don't think either one of us knew the first thing about being in a real relationship."

"So, I suppose _they _do?" This part, a little tiredly, when she would have expected her mother to be flippant, dismissive. "Edmond, our daughter is a teenager, and that- _man- _is… impossible." Still she didn't raise her voice. "He doesn't have a single redeemable quality. He doesn't even bathe, for god's sake!"

Another pause, where she couldn't see what was going on, for fear of being seen. Then her father, speaking again. "Hygiene issues aside," He acknowledged, a strange, sort of amused note to his tone now, "Those two had to have run into problems from the first time they met. The fact that they couldn't let on about it, not the least of them." A soft sound, like a second, softer acknowledgement. "It would seem they've learned to deal with them."

"I can't believe that." Olivia denied coldly… But not as if she had much will left to argue about it. "Lydia has to be holding up that relationship completely by herself… And when she realizes that…"

"What?" A gentle prodding, when she didn't finish. "You think this, _world of the dead law_, works the way ours does? They're married, Liv… I don't think there's any safety net for them. _Either_ of them. At this point, we can only hope they can stay happy together."

This time the pause was longer. Long enough for Lydia to peer around the corner, to make sure she hadn't been discovered… And be surprised, by the sight of her father's hand, gently on Olivia's shoulder. Surprised even more, by her mother's next words… "Do you know?" Quietly, almost guiltily, like she shouldn't be saying what she was about to say, "I'm not even sure I care half as much as I should. She's my daughter, and all I keep thinking is that she got herself into this mess herself. It's her responsibility now, happy or not. That I've done all I can… Even if that's not true."

Clearly her father wasn't expecting this, and didn't immediately know how to respond. He started to pull his hand away, only to have it caught by Olivia, and squeezed, gently, in the flickering firelight. "Then why did you ask me to come here?" He asked, just a little more carefully than his tone had been until now… Like there was suddenly a wall between them. "If it wasn't Lydia you want to talk about…?"

"I missed you." Said so softly, that at first, Lydia almost missed it. From her father's stillness, she might be forgiven for thinking he had too. "You were my best friend for almost twenty-five years, Edmond. And I never even told you." Her voice wavered, a little, when he said nothing. "I know I thought…"

"You thought you could just push me out of your life, and not care." He finished, softly, his own tone still not bitter, but no warmer than it had been only moments before. "Out of my life, out of my family, like I'd never really been a part of it in the first place." A small, weighted pause, before his words returned, suddenly almost straining under that brief silence. "Do you know what I _gave up_ for you?"

"Yes." It was said very quietly, but without hesitation, as if, unlike him, _she'd _come to peace with it, and he should have too. "You gave up your family, your choice of college, your-"

"I gave up _everything_." She couldn't see for sure, but she thought that if her dad was still holding Olivia's hand, it must be very tightly now. "And I _never_ regretted it. Not for one instant. Not even now. And I swear to god I never _will_." This said though, his upper body leaning in close the whole time… He suddenly seemed to lose his intensity, and slump back again, slowly. "But you, Olivia… The only thing you were ever willing to give up, was me."

This time, Olivia seemed lost for anything to say… She just stared at him, quietly, in the darkness. Until, finally, the last words she ever would have expected to leave her mother's lips… "I'm sorry."

Sorry. _Sorry_? It was all Lydia could do to remain silent, and it was at this point that the whole eavesdropping thing started to feel like a bad idea. For the life of her, for some reason she didn't understand, she didn't want to hear her mother apologize. Olivia never apologized for anything. She never _regretted_ anything. She was the most proud, stubborn woman Lydia knew… Other than herself.

And it was unsettling, somehow, to hear her admit that she might have been wrong. Never mind how many times Lydia had wanted to drag those words out of her herself.

All her father said, softly, was, "I'm sorry too, Liv."

But clearly, this wasn't enough for her mother, who shook her head, frustrated, and pressed on… As if now that she'd said it, there was a whole lot more she wanted to say, a whole lot more she wanted to apologize for. "I was a stupid, spoiled brat." Just a whisper, sort of a plea, for him to understand this… To understand that she _had_ been. That she wasn't anymore. -Though where this sudden desperation for him to understand had come from, Lydia had no idea. "I didn't deserve you, I-"

"Stop it." Quietly, but spoken with a strength that she hadn't heard from her father in some time now. "I don't want to hear you talking about yourself like that."

A pause, then softly, defeatedly, "But it's true."

"Olivia…"

And that was all she could take from that, scooting backwards silently before getting to her feet, doing her best not to hear a single word more, as she left her parents alone to finish their conversation, none the wiser. Her throat felt thick and sore, and she didn't know for sure why she felt angry, but she held onto the emotion as she moved, a little more clumsily now, up the stairs, and back to her bedroom. It was easier to feel angry, than feel sorry for either one of them. Like her mother had said of her, they'd gotten into this mess themselves. She shouldn't care either way.

Still though, the feeling of unease wouldn't go away… The knowledge, in the back of her mind, that Olivia had been begging her father to come back, and what that might mean. What it might mean for the Maitlands, what it might mean for _her_… Their family was broken, but it still made sense to her. If her father came back… He wasn't meant to deal with the dead. What did that _mean_? What would happen?

She rubbed her hand angrily across her eyes, refusing to let any tears fall. She hated crying, she hated being weak, and she would _not_ be weak for _them_. Pushing the door open silently, she considered Beetlejuice, laying there on their bed, and wondered again, briefly, if things would always be good for them. Most mortal marriages didn't last twenty years… They had a lot longer than that ahead of them.

"I can't imagine my life without you, Beej." She whispered, finally wiping away a tear that just wouldn't stay put. "Goddamnit, I will _not_ let that happen to us."

Naturally, she should have been tipped off by the fact that he wasn't snoring, but she was still surprised when Beetlejuice rolled over, lifted one brow, and looked at her quizzically, not saying a word. After a moment, he smirked, and gestured, with one finger, for her to come lay down with him.

Lydia laughed, abandoning all her fears in the face of the guy she, after all, _couldn't_ imagine her life without, and swung the door closed, coming over next to him on the bed, and smiling down at the half dead man through wet eyes. For his part, he reached out, took her firmly by the waist, with both hands, and lifted her up to sit on top of him, searching her features in the dark with his sharp, otherworldly gaze.

"Hey, babes." He greeted her softly, for once in his life, seeming to know exactly how to respond to her likeliness to crumble at any moment… And not even asking what had caused it. "You look like shit… So how come you're still so goddamn cute?"

It was a rhetorical question of course, but it was what she needed to hear… Not him tiptoeing all around her, or 'aw, what's wronging,' her… She counted on him not to buy into all that mushy crap. Just a straightforward observation, and an assurance, in his own way, that they were still going strong as ever.

It made her smile, and lean down to kiss him lightly on the forehead… Dropping her breasts dangerously near the poltergeist's face, which left him, naturally, grinning. "Beej… I love you." She whispered, one of the rare occasions when she felt the need to say it. "You know that, right?"

"Huh, babes…" He slid one hand up her shirt, sort of nonchalantly, and looked at her with serious eyes, even as he proceeded to feel her up, noting softly, "How the hell was I supposed to miss that?" With his free hand, reaching up, and tenderly brushing a strand of ebony hair from her face. "I mean, goddamnit, I told you before… You can't keep a secret from me worth shit." Cool fingers, trailing across tense, sweaty skin. "I could give you some tips… But I gotta tell you, I kinda like hearing you say it anyway. Ain't any broad ever said that to me… Not that meant it worth shit. You? You're something special, Lyds."

His voice had dropped, just a little for this last, and then, with a grunt and a grin, he gave her a little shove away, reclaiming both his hands, ands stretched out slowly underneath her, enjoying the feel of her just above his sheet clad body. "Come on. Get those fucking clothes off, and come to bed. Don't know why you sleep in them all the time, anyway…"

"I don't…" She protested, not removing her clothes, but sliding off him slowly, until she could lie down beside him. "But what am I supposed to do? Every time you catch a flash of skin, you're all over me!" Even if she was smiling as she said it, and wiggled back against him, just a little, to feel their bodies rub close together, making him groan.

He quickly countered it with a chuckle though, and a light tickle across her side, between tank top and pajama bottoms. "Yeah Lyds… _I'm_ the one with no self control. You know goddamn well you can't keep your hands off of me." It was a good natured banter, not quite infused with the sexual tension that such a conversation might once have held, but still thick with tenderness and unhidden desire. "But hell, _you _know you're sexy…"

"If I ever doubted it," She acknowledged, slowly feeling better, now that she was with him again, "You sure took care of that." She turned a little in his arms, dropping her head against his collar, and breathing in, deeply. It was a funny thing to say, but he wasn't old enough to smell as old as he did. He made her think of damp, weathered stone… Ageless. Immortal. But he felt very human in her arms…

Beetlejuice grunted, accepting the fact that she liked how he smelled, even if it wasn't something he'd come across in other breathers before. At least it meant he didn't have to worry about that bathing shit. At the moment, though he had something else on his mind… "So… _What _won't you let happen to us, babes?" Sort of off-handedly, like it didn't really matter to him worth shit whether she answered or not. "You have some sorta bad dream?"

"Yeah…" Lydia murmured, closing her eyes, and suddenly feeling ready for sleep again… And definitely not ready to talk about her parents. "A bad dream. I dreamed I was a kid again, and you forgot all about us being married, and…" It made her surprisingly uneasy remembering it, considering what had just happened below in the kitchen. "Just a dumb dream, don't worry about it."

A pause, as Beetlejuice considered her words. "Tell you what, Lyds," He offered at last, completely serious. "You manage to get yourself turned into a kid again, I'll just wait for you to grow up again, same as before."

Lydia couldn't help it, she gave him a little punch with the side of her fist, making a small, hollow sound against the poltergeist's chest, as she reminded him tartly, "You didn't exactly _wait_ the first time, the way I remember it, Beej." Just a little sour at the memory of all those other girls he'd always been chasing… Never mind that, even if it wasn't romantically, he always did come back to her in the end.

Under her hand, Beetlejuice snickered deeply, obviously waiting for that one. "Yeah, I wondered if you'd figure that… Okay, but you gotta admit, Lyds, that'd be a hell of a dry spell. You wouldn't want to do that to your favorite dead guy, would you?"

She offered a second punch, harder than the first, though still not nearly enough to hurt him. He cackled harder, catching her hand. "Nah, but this time I would wait for you, kid. I'll fucking geis myself, if it'll let you get some goddamn sleep." And the slight tone of amusement to the words, didn't hide the fact that, incredibly, he was serious behind it. "Come on… I only got one girl on my mind, Lyds… And you know damn well there ain't another one out there like you."

A pause, then, a little vehemently, as if he were just remembering this himself, "Fuck, you forgetting? I had to blast his royal lowness across half the face of a city to get you for myself…!"

She laughed softly. "Because that's really why I picked you." Lydia murmured under her breath, reaching up, and twining her fingers sleepily through his hair. "You are so thick-headed sometimes…" Offered nothing but affectionately…

"You love it." Beetlejuice assured her, self satisfied as always, if a bit exhausted from not enough rest. "Now either shut the fuck up and get some sleep, or jump my goddamn bones and get it over with… I'm fucking tired, Lyds."

"Humph." She snuggled back in his arms, and he dropped a light kiss to the top of her head. "You act like you _need_ sleep, or something." Never mind that he did… She'd worry about her parents tomorrow. It was probably nothing worth losing a good night's sleep over, after all…

* * *

No mention was made the next day of her father's visit, the night before. From the oblivious way the Maitlands acted, they might not have even known about it. It would be just like her mother too, to sneak him in, to avoid confrontation… Just like her mother, of course, because it was exactly what _she_ would have done too.

But Lydia couldn't help but notice that her father was conspicuously absent… At least to her. Her mother's mood was more or less the same, she still looked more than anything like she needed a cup of coffee, and pretended not to notice as Adam thoroughly enjoyed his own cup. She was still wearing her pajamas at the breakfast table, and things were more or less a mirror of the morning before…

Except that this time, Beetlejuice had decided to join them for breakfast. And he wasn't feeling as amiable towards the in-laws as he had the day before… Regardless of what Lyds had claimed the night before, he didn't believe it was a dream that had made her all upset like that. Just about the only thing in this goddamn world that could make his babes cry, were the people currently sharing the table with him. So fuck being nice. He just waited for the conversation to turn his way.

"…Think you probably got off lucky, Lydia." Adam was saying, having been deep in some conversation that the poltergeist was only paying half an ear to, as he bided his time to strike up his own discussion with the girl. "You could have been thrown out of the school completely… I'm a little surprised you weren't. That school has a reputation of being, difficult, for difficult students."

"That's me," Lydia agreed without blinking, sort of pushing her eggs around on her plate, "A difficult student. You should all really expect it by now… Actually," A slight flicker of her gaze upwards, and a hint of a smile, "Miss Shannon seems to think I'm showing improvement."

This left Adam without a ready reply, but Beetlejuice didn't jump in just yet. He was still weighing the air in the room… Figuring out _just_ the way to break his silence, without it biting the girl in the ass, as she so eloquently put it.

When the silence stretched for upwards a minute, Adam finally started to say something… But what it was would never be determined, because the poltergeist took that as his cue. "My turn, Poindexter." He grunted, waving the man's unspoken words away with a fork, and then proceeding to pretend he wasn't even there. "So it's like this, babes… I'm fucking bored."

Lydia paused, her own fork halfway to her lips, and raised one eyebrow. He could read her expression easily… _This ought to be good_. She didn't for a minute seem to think he was implying he was bored with _her_. "All right," She said simply, as if this were just an expected part of everyday life, "So what are you going to do about it?"

Her husband grunted, as everyone but his girl stared with a sort of sense of foreboding, watching the two. Sort of a, '_Hell, what now_,' sort of attitude. "Well…" He mused, unfolding his napkin methodically, a nasty little grin forming slowly on his face, "I was thinking maybe I oughta take the chump's advice… You know, get a job."

"Well, that's the first thing you've said that makes sense!" Adam noted, looking a little surprised… And for good reason. Lydia of course, wasn't so easily played by the poltergeist, she knew his games too well. So as Adam well on, about how he'd have to, 'start small, and work his way up…' Lydia just smirked, reached for her orange juice, and let her foster father get in a few more words, before she decided to interrupt… As politely as possible.

"So, back to the bioexorcist business, huh?" She teased, well aware how much the man enjoyed giving a good scare… And well aware that this was nothing like Adam had assumed the poltergeist meant. "You should start somewhere close by… Winter River's getting way too damn crowded for my taste."

By this point of course, her words seemed to finally register with the other dead man. "Wait… Bioexorcist business? Lydia, you can't…" He broke off in mid sentence, turning to Beetlejuice himself. "She can't be _serious_!"

"Why the fuck not?" Beetlejuice countered, not put off his step for a second. "Hell, someone's gotta do it! Some of the dead these days," He made a careless gesture in his, then Barbara's direction as he was speaking, clearly indicating the two of them, "They got no clue how this haunting deal works! Get themselves decked up in…" His lips peeled back, a little, in a grin, "Designer sheets. Throw goddamn cocktail parties. You know, _real _amateur shit."

"And I suppose turning into a snake, and trying to _kill_ people is the answer?" Adam countered right back, suddenly seeming to feel the need to rise from the table. "Or trying to marry fourteen year old girls! Or sending people through the _roof_!"

Beetlejuice held his hands out, in a feign of helplessness. "Hey buddy, whatever gets the job done. _And don't start on me about some fourteen year old girl crap_… Liv was fifteen if she was a goddamn day!" Lydia mother, at hearing the familiar nickname, tumbling from _his_ lips, flinching just a little, before she reached for her juice without a word. "The way you fucking carry on, you'd think she was twelve!"

"Then you don't want me to get started on what you seem to think is appropriate for twelve year old girls to do…" Adam retorted right back- Before breaking in mid-sentence, closing his eyes, and abruptly seeming to lose his steam. "You know what? I'm not going to talk about this. I'm _finished_ talking about this. You are not going to drive a wedge between me and my daughter. That's final."

The poltergeist chuckled under his breath at the guy's attempt to act all in control… But he saw no reason to argue with it. Hell, if he'd had to put up with the lot of them this long, a little longer made no difference to him… And it made a world of difference to his girl.

"_Sure_." He agreed silkily, just the one word, as condescendingly as possible, before he turned his attention back to Lydia. "So babes, I figure with you pulling extra hours with the school thing, you won't miss me so much, doing a little side work. 'Cause, you know, otherwise you'd probably be going out of your fucking _mind_…"

"Nah," She teased him right back, "I'd just want to help." She wiped her mouth on the pretty peach napkin, before crinkling into a ball, and making a impossible shot, across the room, to a trashcan she couldn't even currently see, much less properly aim for. "…Get a few new lessons in, you know?"

Beetlejuice snorted. "Yeah, someday, kiddo. You ain't up to that level of shit yet." When Lydia made an indelicate sound, he just grinned. "No offense, babes."

"None taken." She assured him easily, pushing her plate back. "I gotta go, so I don't have time to be annoyed with you… You all have fun pissing each other off without me." She dropped a kiss to her husband's lips, acknowledging, as he didn't get up to walk with her, that he probably wasn't nearly done with her parents yet… And pretty sure she knew why.

"You know," She noted quietly, her hand lingering briefly on her husband's shoulder, "You don't have to fight all my battles for me, Beej."

"Yeah…" He agreed, smirking, now that the 'joke' was out, "But it's hella fun, Lyds." He patted her ass lightly as she walked away, and watched her go, ignoring the others there, currently doing their best to ignore his little show of intimacy.

When the girl was gone, he turned back to Olivia, all pretenses dropped. "So what the fuck was Eddie-boy doing back here, Liv?" He demanded, a little shortly as he leaned back in his chair, and forewent all further interest in his breakfast. "'Cause it sure as hell had the kid riled up last night."

For about the length of a breath, everyone there was silent… He couldn't have said which one of them looked more surprised.

Then, in the manner Adam was quickly cultivating, he chose to completely ignore Beetlejuice, and turned straight to Olivia, forehead furrowed in a look of concern. "Edmond was _here_?" He pressed, clearly not pleased by this little revelation. "Olivia… I thought the two of you…"

"Yes, I know." A little exasperated, but still too tired to summon any more than this. "I know what everyone _thought_. I know what I _thought_. But Adam…" She turned a helpless gaze back towards him, a look the woman knew very well by this point, and admitted softly, "Adam… He's still my husband. I _miss_ him."

This seemed to rock the male Maitland back a little, and he slowly resumed leaning back in his seat, his worried look now deeper than before… But clearly concerned about the girl he'd helped raise as well. "Olivia," He said at last, slowly, "If you two think you can work this out, then-"

"We don't." Very, very quietly, her eyes cast down to her breakfast. "He made that pretty clear last night. And I don't know _how_ it would work, anyway. But," Now her gaze rose, lighting first on Adam, then Barb… For now utterly ignoring the third ghost in the room, "I still, have feelings for him. I've tried to ignore it, but-" A brief, uncertain pause. "I think he still cares about me, too."

Greeted by not a word from either of her favorite ghosts… Adam watching her, worriedly, Barbara rather intent on staring at the hand gripping her orange juice. And Beetlejuice of course, just riding it out until the chumps made some kind of _decision_… "Do you still love him?" Barbara asked at last, the answer to this clearly going to be the end all and be all that decided how she was going to respond.

Olivia smiled, a little tightly. Regarding her own drink with something akin to fascination. "Yes." She whispered, quietly. "As hard as I tried to convince myself that I didn't… I think I still do."

"You _think_." Adam clarified, clearly not liking where this conversation was going. "Olivia, I hardly think…"

"Adam." One word, from his wife, so weighted that it silenced him, before she reminded him, almost heartbrokenly, "She's his _wife_." After this, Adam offered no more, but Barb, finally joining the conversation, turned to Olivia, and regarded her, for a long moment, as evenly as she could manage. "Have you thought about what it means," She prompted at last, her voice low, "If you do decide to work things out?"

"Yes." Olivia answered, without pause. Smiling, tightly. "And I can't figure the goddamn mess out. I don't want to choose."

Slowly, Adam let a long breath out. "No wonder you suddenly sympathize with our daughter." He muttered under his breath, clearly not thinking to find it strange to call Lydia 'our daughter,' when her mother was his first foster daughter, and with the fact that she had four such 'parents…' "Goddamn it…" He looked up at her, frowning openly now. "And what does Edmond say?"

"He wants us to be friends." Olivia answered with forced lightness, waving through the air what she thought of that with her fork. "But I know the man better than anyone ever has… And we started out as friends in the first place. Remember? I think…" A pause, a sort of break into silence, as clearly, she didn't know what to think. "I don't know what to think." She finished simply. "Maybe we'll just be friends." A glance at her own foster parents, before noting, halfheartedly, "That's what's best for Lydia, right?"

"I'm more concerned about what's best for you." Barbara answered honestly, even if her voice was a bit low. Adam cast her a pained glance, but didn't counter the words. How could he? This was their _daughter_…

"Huh." Beetlejuice decided that, since no one else was saying anything, after a moment or more of silence, that it was his turn to fucking talk. "Well, whatever the hell you do… Leave me the fuck out of it. I got nothing against old Eddie-boy… Aside from that shit where he tried to sic a priest on my goddamn ass, and hell, I'm not one to hold grudges…" A long, pointed look in Olivia's direction, as he offered this, with nothing like a grin. "Not unless I'm _really_ fucking screwed over, that is, right Liv?" Now his voice changed, becoming more serious. "But figure out what the fuck you're going to do, and do it, all right? Enough fucking bullshit!"

"Easy for you to say…" Olivia muttered, just wearied enough to risk being flippant in the face of her long time fear.

"Yeah," The poltergeist agreed, without hesitation, "Goddamn right, it's easy for me to say. You want something, you go for it. Don't let nothing fucking stop you. You love someone? Knock down any-fucking-thing that it takes to be with them. You gotta fucking compromise, _compromise_. Hell, you think it's an afterlife of beetles and dead roses with you assholes?" He flicked this away dismissively… Or possibly tried to rid himself of something on the tip of his finger. "What-the-fuck-ever."

"_We're_ difficult to deal with?" Adam pressed, with his first trace of humor, strained though it may be. "Hell… You… _You…!_" And he just shook his head, like that was all he could summon, he was so overwhelmed with all the things he wanted to say.

"Yeah," Beetlejuice sneered, looking amused himself, "Me… Me… _Me_, you fucking bag of ecto-shit! Now what about her, her, _her_?" He gestured in the living woman's direction, before grunting, and getting to his feet, slowly… Adding under his breath, "Fucking idiots."

Barbara sighed, watching this one more bizarre part of their life, unavoidable as it seemed, dismiss them with a sneer… And closed her eyes, dropping her head forward onto her hands with a little twist of own lips, in apprehension. "I just want things to be worked out enough," She confessed softly, looking over her fingers at her husband, "That we know what the hell's normal anymore."

"Normal?" Beetlejuice seemed to choke on the word, and stumbled backwards a bit, seeming to try to work something loose from his throat, until his back hit the wall… And then he started laughing, hard. Guffaws, chortles, wheezes, the whole nine yards. He laughed so hard that his knees buckled, and he slid down the wall to end on his ass, bending over his legs, and still gasping away, like this was the best joke ever. "F-fucking… Fucking _normal_?"

Olivia was, oddly, the first to smile, even offering a small laugh, as she reflected that, like her daughter, normal had never been anything of great importance to her, either… And when she laughed, finally dropping her weary expression, just giggling away like yes, it was so funny… Finally the Maitlands joined in too, albeit it on a slightly more subdued scale.

"I suppose, we're past any point, where any of this can be called _normal_." Barbara agreed, a little against her will, but in a somewhat good humor. "My god, Adam…" She reached for her husband… And then they were all laughing, hard.

Normal… Beetlejuice sneered when the rest of them were finally busy laughing… Who the fuck cared about _normal_? This was _life_. Not to be fucking confused with _death_. So who cared?

Screw _normal…_

_-----------------_


	13. Home

If the world was the way I wanted it, not only would the _idea_ for Beetlejuice be mine, but so would Beetlejuice himself. That is, alas, not the case. I don't own any of it, not Lyds, not Beej, not the Neitherworld... Basically not anything in these pages that can otherwise be accredited to Tim Burton, and/or the Geffen Film Company. Now, there is some stuff in here that is mine... But you? You're reading this for _Beetlejuice_... And Lydia. And them together. Am I right?

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Whew, had a time figuring out what to write here... Then helped my mother out at her job for a few hours, and had nothing much to do but think. So here we are! It's not long, but I think it's a good way to end this fic... Tell me what you think!

Oh, and it's late here... Realy late. Twenty til four in the morning late. So though I usually answer reviews for my previous chapter at this point... THAT, dear friends, will be waiting until tomorrow.

Weekends are good...

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Beetlejuice's chest was actually quite comfy. Lydia lay against it, the two reclined in the narrow windowsill, as she listened away to the oddly enthralling beating of his heart. Somehow more so, because for six hundred years or so, it had been so still… Her fingers tangled in his worn white 'dress shirt…' his jacket, for the moment, nowhere to be seen. Making the presence of his tie that much more out of place, twisting around the fingers of her right hand.

"You know what's been bugging me?" She mused lazily, oddly satisfied with the moment… Which all things considered, was rather weird. Beetlejuice just grunted, absently, as if giving her permission to go forward. "Well, ever since we visited that candy shop, I've been waiting for someone to make some comment about going to hell… Them or me, I didn't really care which… So I could say something about knowing this nice little place right on the edge of it." Her nose wrinkled, ruefully. "Only, you know, clever somehow."

The poltergeist chuckled under her, a deep rumbling, reassuring sound, as he patted her head consolingly. "Not much that'll piss a guy off more than having a good line, and no straight man to set him up for it." He agreed, amused, rather than disappointed, for her sake. "Just sit on it, babes… Way this world works, you'll get to use it sooner or later. Trust me."

At this point someone, not either of them, cleared their throat disapprovingly, and Lydia lifted her head from her husband's chest, looking across the classroom at the, currently, highly annoyed Miss Shannon. "This is hardly the way I expected you to carry out your detention, Mrs. Juice." She informed the girl, just a little icily… The mannerisms of any authority figure who just wasn't being taken seriously.

Lydia frowned, turning in the poltergeist's arms, but not quite leaving the comfort of his heavy embrace. "Well, what am I supposed to do? I finished that essay you assigned ten minutes ago, and there's another ten before detention ends." She didn't quite go as far, naturally, as suggesting the woman make the assignment _longer_…

"And legibly completed, no less…" Miss Shannon agreed, somewhat grudgingly, taking the assignment she'd handed in by the corner, as if it were somehow distasteful. "Though I admit, I fail to see how you managed a ten page essay, in an hour and forty minutes."

"Magic." Lydia assured her lightly, stretching slowly in her husband's embrace, and taking amused note of the way his eyebrows flew up at the casual confession… Not that it was likely to be taken seriously by the older woman.

"Thought you were taking this punishment shit seriously." He noted, not as if he disapproved, of course, but rather like he just thought it was worth noting.

"Hoe else was I supposed to finish ten pages that quickly?" Lydia replied flippantly, well aware it would piss the teacher off to no end. "If I didn't use magic, I'd be here an extra two hours… And you'd end up blowing someone up."

"True." He grunted, settling back in the window again, the thin glass not so easily bearing both their weight. "But only 'cause it's fun seeing the look on your face when I let go the _really_ big fireworks." He twined his fingers, carelessly, through her hair. "I'd already have done it, if you didn't insist on being all _good_ and shit." He made a face to show what he thought of that. "Taking shit _seriously_."

"I'm not certain that girl takes anything seriously…" Miss Shannon noted under her breath, no longer really part of the conversation, but unable to resist putting in her two cents nonetheless. "Certainly nothing I've ever seen…"

Beetlejuice glanced in the uptight old shrew's direction, cackling under his breath. "Trust me broad, just the fact that she's _doing_ this detention shit, is making me think I ain't rubbed off on the kid at all!"

Miss Shannon flinched, slightly, at each improperly used word, lifting her gaze with a cold stoniness, and noted, chillingly, "Always helpful to know who's responsible, when a student becomes troublesome." Before turning back to grading the paper, like the two of them weren't even there.

Beetlejuice and Lydia just exchanged glanced, each more amused than irritated, and resumed cuddling, like the strict vice principal wasn't even in the room.

…And so things might have ended on more or less of a calm note, if, two minutes before her assigned sentence was to end, _another_ teacher hadn't walked into the classroom, clearly seeking to talk to the other woman… And pause, quite abruptly, on seeing the lovebirds nestled up in the window.

The poltergeist, for his part, observed her for upwards of thirty seconds, before his eyebrows flew up, and an '_oh yeah_,' sort of look dawned on his face. "Hey!" He grinned, half pushing the goth girl out of his lap, in his attempt to get the newcomer's attention. "I know you!"

Instantly turning bright red from head to toe, the teacher turned on her heel, without offering a single word, and stepped straight back out of the classroom, without a second glance at anyone. Beetlejuice chuckled, looking oddly satisfied with himself…

"Beetlejuice…" Lydia groaned, giving her husband a little shove, and making his eyebrows fly up, and waggle at her, when he finally acknowledged her again. "You've gotta be kidding me!"

"What?" He grunted, still clearly in a good mood. "You know damn well I chased every piece of ass in a skirt this place offered, before you and me got going." He leaned back, chuckling to himself as warring emotions struggled across the girl's face, the look on his own quite certain that, still, he could do no wrong in her eyes. "Don't act like you didn't know, babes…"

Lydia crossed her arms, doing her best to look annoyed, and finding, for once, that she actually was… A little. For god's sake, was nothing sacred? Sure, there was that one time she'd set him up with one of the older women, but… "Exactly how many of my teachers _have_ you dated, Beej?" She demanded, just a little up tightly.

Beetlejuice gave her a long, amused gaze. "Didn't _date_ any of them, kiddo." He assured her, stressing the word to leave no doubt in his wife's mind just what any or all of them, collectively, had meant to him. "Matter of fact, I think you're the first girl I've ever fucking _dated_."

She couldn't help it, she made a face, like she was disgusted or something… She was hoping to get a reaction out of him, even if honestly she found the confession a little flattering. "Goddamnit, Beej… You really are a filthy, amoral lecher."

The poltergeist just leaned forward, sneering. "You're breaking my goddamn hearts, Lyds." Then laughed, settling back again, before pushing himself to his feet, and snagging her by the waist, pulling her against his body so firmly, that she had no chance to misinterpret his current interests. "You still can't fucking bullshit worth shit, babes." He hissed in her ear, snaking out his long tongue to dart across the warm, soft lobe… The chilly, wet caress, sending shivers down her spine.

Giggling, Lydia gave him a firm push, all for public displays of affection… Just not so much in front of Miss Shannon. "Yeah, I'm gonna get you, one of these times." She assured him, whatever niggling annoyance she'd had with the guy quickly pushed away… Though she pointed caught his hand when it would have darted up her skirt. "Two more minutes, Beej," She chastised him gently, "Then we get to go do whatever we want." Once again, Beetlejuice's eyebrow flew up, and he grinned…

"Nnrg…" Lydia glanced back, in surprise, to notice Miss Shannon looking rather like today's detention had taken more out of her, than her student. She was leaning forward, her fingers at her temples, gazing at the two of them flatly, and rather like she just didn't want to put up with either one of them for another minutes. "Your two minutes is up, I believe." She muttered under her breath, banishing them with a flick of her hand. "Get out."

Beetlejuice didn't say a goddamn word, he just chuckled under his breath… But he kind of had to half carry the girl, who was slowly turning red from holding in her own laughter, leaning most of her weight against his side. Only when they were clear of the school walls did she finally let it go… sort of in a little, twisted shriek of amusement, that quickly died into hysterical giggles.

The most he could get out of her after that, as he gave up trying to hold her on her feet, and scooped her into his arms, was a giddy little murmur about how he'd broken her teacher…

"Broken bigger _pain-in-the-asses_ than that in my day, kiddo." He assured her, in an attempt at nonchalance… Though in reality, he couldn't stop grinning with pride. Not that the girl was growing jaded to his shit, or anything, but it'd been a while since he'd literally knocked her off her goddamn feet!

Slowly Lydia's paroxysms of laughter died down, and she looped an arm over his shoulder, pulling herself up to his ear… And whispering, just a little provocatively, "We are _so _evil, Beej."

The poltergeist let loose a short chortle, shifting her weight enough to offer the girl a little pinch, and corrected, with mock sternness, "Hell babes… _I'm _evil. You were going to goddamn heaven, remember? You got a _long_ way to go before you can match up to my kind of trouble."

Lydia batted him halfheartedly with the back of her hand, too amused to find his deliberate condescension annoying… And lifted herself a little further, tucking her head in the groove of his shoulder, and gazing out with vague interest at the people gawking at the scene they made, him carrying her down the street amongst the lot of them… Just one step further from strolling along hand in hand, but enough to boggle their judgmental little minds.

"Yeah?" She challenged another couple, who were doing their best to pretend they weren't staring, "When was the last time _he_ carried _you_ home?" Adding, in an undertone, to Beetlejuice, "Goddamn breathers."

"Like yer dead…" Beetlejuice mumbled, making the girl smirk right back at him, and snuggle more comfortably against his chest… Clearly with no intention of getting down and walking for herself.

If anything though, it seemed like fewer people were staring today… And those who did do a double take, really only seemed slightly more bemused than usual… As if Winter River were actually getting used to the pair of them. She wondered when that had happened, deciding to ignore those who still couldn't seem to get their eyes in their heads, and tipped her face up, regarding the deeply blue sky… Odd, so soon in spring… And her husband's face, outlined by the fading daylight.

Making a soft sound under her breath, she reached up, tracing the outline of his face with a little, satisfied moue, finding the green marks she knew now by heart, and delighted finding shapes in… As much as anything, because they seemed to bother others who could see them, just so much. They made it forbidden somehow… And that made it fun. Like a private game.

Beetlejuice cast a glance down at her, saw her self satisfied little smirk, and chuckled under his breath, clearly with no clue what was going on through her little head, but pretty sure it boded well for him. "Sexy, huh?" He challenged lazily, shifting her in his arms, to drop a kiss atop her head, and a discreet tickle across her belly. "You know it."

"God, my views of sexy are so warped…" She mused under her breath, utterly relaxed in his embrace, "But damn if you're not right. You are one sexy piece of ass, Beej." He arched one eyebrow at her, a little incredulously… Used to saying it, but not used to having it said about him. Not that he'd ever doubted it… But hell, hearing it didn't hurt any!

"Babes…" He drawled slowly, matter-of-factly, "You know I love you, right?" And as was usually their way when one of them felt the need to say it, she didn't just echo it right back… She just looked smug, ran her fingers slowly down his chest, and kissed the corner of his chin contentedly.

"Damn straight." She agreed softly.

After that, they arrived at the bride, and with the lack of any company, other than each other, they seemed to feel no more need for discussion. They just sort of walked along, her in his arms, tucked against his chest, listening contentedly to his heartbeat, thump-thump-thumping away. She swore she heard birdsong somewhere. That wasn't strange, but suddenly it was a little more welcome…

The song of mourning doves, grieving the loss of another day… The low hum of the crickets, impatient for the night to begin. These were the sorts of things that just weren't offered in the neitherworld… She'd never really noticed how much she enjoyed them before. How much she missed them, the night's she spent away.

She watched the colors, painted across the clouds, not from sunset just yet that was another couple hours off but from what looked like a building storm… Deep, sleet gray, and strange haphazard slashes of brilliant purple and blue, and scrawled like spilled ink across the heavens. They probably be home, long before the first drops fell…

It was good. Life was good… Afterlife, whatever this was. "Hey, Lyds?" Beetlejuice. Her husband. Interrupting her thoughts. She looked up at him quizzically, offering a little noise of question. "You know, they've got this castle in Wales, I haunted the hell out of it a couple centuries ago. Got a couple of the residents stuck but good. They're still floating around the place… Happy as punch though. Love that high society shit they get in on."

"Yeah?" Lydia mused, not nearly as indifferent to the little story as she let on… If Beetlejuice was bringing it up, chances were that something interesting was in the offering. "Sounds deadly… What about it?"

"Well…" He stretched his back a little, straightening his shoulders, never once letting go of his grip on her, "What say you and me go hobnobbing with the royal dead tomorrow, now that you got that school shit out the way for the week? You wanted a few haunting tips… And hell, if spooking around some old pile of rocks don't cut it for you, I know this great restaurant in Venice… We can scare the hell out of place, then sit back and enjoy some meals on the house! What'd'ya say?"

Lydia smiled, well aware that either one would be more fun than morally allowed. "Deadly-_vu_." She said simply, scissoring her legs slowly, before, with a twist of her own magic, since that was what he was clearly waiting for, Lydia flicked the front door open, letting Beetlejuice stride through, his small wife tucked securely in his arms, and greeted Adam, just inside, with a smile, and a low sing-song…

"We're _home…"_

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And with that, I end this fic... Which means? _ Yay, something NEW!_ For heavens sake, i've been working on this one for months, I _need something new. _Sooo... I'm going to try something _really _new. As in, new fandom new, if I can get it worked out well enough._ We'll see..._

It's supposed to be a surprise... Which would normally cause problems, but I think most of you have me on author alert by now, if you are interested in exploring a new fandom with me... If you don't have me on author alert, I'll probably post to my homepage what it is, once I get it going. Either way, I'm looking forward to it... This is going to be fun!

(Yes, that was a blatant plot to end up on more author alerts, but I also do genuinely want it to be a surprise!)


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